Through Another's Eyes
by Liliwen
Summary: Word switches Artha and Moordryd's minds in order to uncover the Dragon Booster's identity. But what happens when his plans are interrupted by a powerful mag warrior from the past? Can Artha and Moordryd work together to stop this new threat?
1. The Button Has Been Pressed

-1Here's my second Db fanfic, also posted on the DB boards. Reviews and constructive criticism appreciated!

_Chapter 1: The Button Has Been Pressed_

Word paced in his citadel, waiting for his son to speak. Moordryd stubbornly stayed silent and turned his face so he wouldn't have to look at his father. The artificial lights cast a glow of menace as his father continued pacing. The look he gave his son was a soft look of annoyance, mixed with the expression of knowing he would win, whether Moordryd liked it or not. Just to prove him wrong, Moordryd gave a simple, "No." Word shrugged as if he had expected this.

"Fine, Moordryd. Continue acting stubborn, if you must." He stopped pacing in front of his son. "The sooner you agree, the more time you will have to discover the Dragon Booster's identity." He scanned Moordryd's face for a sign of giving in. Moordryd scowled and turned his head as far as the trapping gear would allow. Word smirked and walked back to his chair from where he had his son trapped against the wall.

Moordryd was bound to the cold wall by more green trapping gear than was necessary. Nearly three times the amount. No amount of squirming or pushing would release him. The only way free was if someone else came and helped, and there was little hope of that, as he was in Word Paynn's citadel.

"I don't see why you balk at this, Moordryd. Don't you want to discover who you have been fighting?" Word calmly folded his hands and looked at his son from across the room.

"Why can't you make Cain do it?" Moordryd asked desperately now, looking for a way out. He had been tied up for nearly an hour now.

"Because Cain is an imbecile." Word said as if it were clearly obvious. "And because I know you wish to know the Dragon Booster's identity as much as I."

"But is there no other way?"

"None as sure as this. They will answer all your questions if this works."

"If?" Moordryd couldn't help asking. "What happens if it doesn't?"

Word shrugged nonchalantly. "You shouldn't be harmed too seriously."

"Shouldn't?"

Word left the room for a brief moment. When he returned, he put a strange helmet on Moordryd's head. In a sense it was similar to the tan headpiece he himself wore. But this was light grey impaled with flecks of black. It was a sort of mind control device. Moordryd flinched slightly as the cold, alien gear came into contact with his head. "This is how you're going to do it?" Word adjusted it, and gave a slight nod. "How does it work?"

Satisfied, Word ignored Moordryd's question for a moment as he went to his control panel. "This gear," he said without turning around, "will transfer your mind with Artha Penn's."

"I know but how? Wouldn't Penn need to wear one too?"

"No. That is the beauty of this piece. It only needs to be placed on one. I simply add Penn's DNA sample into the computer, and it will instantly transfer your minds. Then you shall be free to act like him, and learn the Dragon Booster's identity from his friends." Word started to activate the gear from one of his huge monitors.

Moordryd sent a questioning look to his father. "How did you get Penn's DNA?" His father turned his head with a smile.

"I did more than simply return Artha's helmet at the race." Moordryd recalled the day's race. He had won, but after they both crossed the finish, Decepshun had suddenly whipped her tail around, sending the racing Beau into the siding. Penn's helmet had fallen off his head as he was thrown off Beau. Coming from no where, Word had picked it up and gave it back to Artha Penn, sending suspicious and questioning looks into everyone's eyes.

"But what did you…"

"I took a small sample of sweat, which is enough to retrieve his DNA." Word smiled as he went on, "I suppose we should both be glad that he sweats so much." Word apparently found this amusing and gave a slight chuckle. Moordryd found this fairly repulsive.

The gear upon Moordryd's head came to life as the computer Word was working at sped up with new information. "Now, soon you will be transferred. Act like Penn as much as possible, and learn who the Dragon Booster is without being too obvious in your questions."

"But I don't want to be the stable brat. I can't act like…like a dork!"

"Believe me, Moordryd, it will be much easier for you than you think." Word replied as he laid a claw on what seemed to be the final button to send him into oblivion. "And, as soon as you find out, you will come back here so I can switch you both to normal. Then with Penn tied up as you are now, we will destroy the Dragon Booster before he knows what has just taken place." Word said to ease some of his son's fears. Moordryd braced himself for what he knew was about to happen. Something completely out of his control. Word smiled as vivid scenes of the Dragon Booster's demise danced across his vision. He pressed the button and Moordryd's sight turned to darkness.


	2. The New Body

-1

_Chapter 2: The New Body_

Artha blearily opened his eyes. One moment he was playing yet another game of battle ground dragon with Lance, and then the world had suddenly turned dark. He wondered if he had fainted. He tried to get up, as he was sure he was on the ground, but his arms refused to move far. He struggled to move his legs, but they too were obstructed in some way. And they felt different. Longer, if it were possible. "What the…" He started to say before shutting his mouth closed with a snap. His voice sounded odd. Finally his vision started to clear, and he saw the last thing he expected. Word Paynn was watching him intently, a malicious grin on his face. Artha looked around frantically. This definitely wasn't Penn Stables. He was in Word's citadel.

"How are you feeling, Artha Penn?" Word asked softly. It seemed to Artha that he spoke the last part in a near question. He glared at him. Something wasn't right. How did he get here? He started to ask just that.

"Why am I…" He was unable to say anything more as the foreign sound of his new voice echoed in his ears. Why had his voice changed? It frightened him.

"Why are you in my citadel?" Word guessed at what he had been trying to say. His grinned widened. "My, but that is a mystery to you, isn't it?" Artha's mind raced with possibilities, but each one he thought up was dismissed immediately. Word smiled as he watched.

"What do you want with me, Paynn?" He said harshly. Artha's eyes widened as he recognized the sound. Word laughed and pulled out a mirror he had been concealing from behind his back.

"Care to look?" He questioned. Artha stared at him, barely grasping the truth of it all. He struggled to turn his head, only finding out why he was immobile. Green trapping gear snaked across his arms, chest and legs, holding him up tightly to the wall. He looked down. He was wearing a heavy, black jacket. His neck ached as he ignored Word's continuing laughter and twisted his head as far as it would go to the right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw stark white hair.

"No!" He screamed as Word finally held up the mirror.

"Artha? Helloooo?" The distant sound of a young voice accompanied Moordryd's sight as he opened his eyes. The room spun in circles, then finally stopped on Lance's worried face. "Artha? Artha, are you alright?"

"What?" Moordryd sat up and put a hand on his head as the last remnants of dizziness subsided. He glanced at his hands. He wasn't tied up anymore. His breath caught in his throat as he realized he was no longer in his father's citadel either. "Oh no," he breathed, "Magna Draconis, no." But it was too late. The echo of Artha Penn's voice hung in the deep silence between the two boys.

"Artha? What's wrong?" Lance persisted in his fretting tone. Moordryd looked at him, confused.

"Oh, uh…nothing…er…Lance? Nothing. I…er…I fainted…" Moordryd gave a weak smile, then decided to chuckle. Was that how Penn acted? He had no idea. Lance looked at him skeptically.

"That's not how people faint."

"What?"

Lance sighed as if it were obvious. "When people faint, they don't drop down like they're dead." He glared at his older brother, who looked on in complete confusion. "They put their hand to their head and their eyes roll up into their head. Then they fall backwards." Lance then provided an excellent imitation to his explanation.

"People don't faint like that!"

"Yah-huh, they do! It's in all the movies!" Lance said in rebuttal.

"Magna Draconis, mini-bra…er…bro, no they don't." Moordryd nearly shouted. Luckily he was able to cover his near slip quite nicely, he thought.

Lance was at first shocked by his brother's quick temper. As he looked on in surprise, Artha merely attempted to act casual. Something must definitely be wrong with him. "Did you almost call me mini-brat?"

"Uh, no. I called you mini-bro." Moordryd drummed Artha's fingers on the ground, as Lance looked on in bewilderment. Then he shakily got to his feet and looked around. Artha was pretty short. It appeared he was in a stable, which also served as the Penn Racing Crew's equipment and gear room. A rather pathetic gear room. Now it was time to figure out the Dragon Booster's identity, and return to his own body.

"You sure you're feeling drac?"

"I've never felt so drac before." Moordryd lied. He was sick to his stomach. "So, uh…"

"Oh, I get it." Lance said bluntly.

"Wha?" The mini-brat couldn't possibly know, could he? Moordryd mentally slapped himself. Of course he couldn't. "Get what?" He said as he acted as casual as he could.

"You faked it, didn't you? You couldn't bear to lose to me again." Lance folded his arms and looked up at his older brother in victory.

"Ah, of course. You caught me." Moordryd put on a fake smile.

"I knew it." Lance bent down to pick up the VIDD-game Moordryd had left on the ground. "You really stink at fainting you know."

"I know." Moordryd clenched his fist tightly. Just get this over with.

"Artha, Lance!" Parm called as he and Kitt walked up. Great, Moordryd thought, now he had to be polite to Penn's friends. He didn't actually mind being with Lance, but if he had to pretend to be egghead's best friend, he just might scream.


	3. Escapes, Excuses and the Emergence

Once again, thanks to all who reviewed! Here's chapter three!

_Chapter 3: Escapes, Excuses and the Emergence_

Artha glared at Word's back as he worked with his monitors and gears. He wriggled against the trapping gear, and again it proved worthless. So he let his arms and legs hang limp. Word seemed oblivious to the fact that he had his arch rival's son in his own son's body hanging awkwardly on his citadel's wall. Artha moved his right foot, or rather, he moved Moordryd's right foot. It was the only part he was free to move. He started to kick it against the wall. The more he did it, the harder and louder he hit. The thuds echoed across the chamber.

Word appeared not to notice. Artha wondered who would tire of it sooner. Word or him. Luckily Word turned around before Moordryd's foot got bruised.

"Refrain from that pounding. For your sake, you don't want to spoil my good mood." Word said, quite calmly, save for the first word which he had barked harshly. His fingers tightened on the gear he was fiddling with. Normally he worked on his latest inventions in his high-tech lab, which held sophisticated machinery. But now he wanted to keep an eye on Artha Penn. People had this annoying tendency to escape when you weren't watching.

"Good mood, huh? You seem pretty confident." Artha said for the sake of conversation. Word's citadel was much too quiet and confining.

Word turned his head to briefly look at his prisoner. He smiled faintly before turning back to his work. "Oh, yes. My son will find out the Dragon Booster's identity. Don't you worry about that."

"And then he'll come back here, you'll switch us, tie me up again and destroy the Dragon Booster? It'll never work."

"I suppose you can give me a reason for that? It isn't wise to depend on hopeless fantasies."

"Look who's talking." At that Word swirled around angrily. Artha smiled as he achieved his goal for the moment: he was irritating Word. Word, as if he read Artha's mind, softened his features as the moment of rage passed. He shouldn't let Penn get to him, after all, his words were meaningless and empty. Word pushed back the temptation to have the last laugh, but this was no time to act childish. Putting down his gear, he reached up with his human hand, and pressed a button on one of the monitors. The screen changed from one showing the entrance to his citadel to one showing the outside of Penn Stables.

"Tell me, Artha Penn," he said, flexing his claws, "where were you before you arrived in my citadel?"

Artha glared heatedly at his back. "Do you really think I'll tell you?" Word turned to look at his him.

"Why, Artha Penn, you're not as dim-witted as you come off to be." Word smiled wickedly at Artha. "No matter. It is unimportant. My wraith dragons will simply have to search a bit longer before they find you, or should I say, find my son. I do dearly wish to watch your friends tell him the secret."

He picked up a controller from his desk, and two wraith dragons materialized from thin air as he pressed the buttons. They had been waiting in the shadows of the citadel, near the wall furthest from Artha. They strode dangerously into the light. One noticed him, and uttered a long screech back at him, stretching it's long, black claws. The other nipped at the first in coiled energy. The first forgot about Artha, and screamed at the second. Word smiled.

"My, but aren't they getting restless? Time to let them stretch their legs." Word said smoothly. "Follow my son and watch him," Word spoke to the two dragons. They stopped their scuffling and looked at Word with possessed eyes. They shrieked in understanding and thundered off.

Artha watched them leave in moderate surprise. The wraiths dragons were getting more intelligent. "You should be more careful, Paynn. Upgrade the mind control gear too much, and they'll become independent. They'll turn on you." Artha wasn't sure whether this would be better than what they were doing now.

Word looked at him, his face devoid of emotion. "I understand what I deal with here. Keep your simple notions to yourself and wait for the end. Moordryd will return shortly. If he doesn't screw up again." Word turned around quite dramatically and changed two monitors to show what the small cameras implanted on the wraith dragons saw. Apparently the wraith dragons were still in Word's citadel, running around corners and down corridors to the exit.

"My friends won't tell him anything." Artha said defiantly. Word smirked at the monitors and gave a small chuckle at Penn's foolishness. "They'll be able to see through his disguise, you'll see."

"My, my, Artha Penn, don't you put too much trust in your pathetic friends."

"I'm not the only one who's putting too much trust in someone."

"So you agree? How humbling of you." Word said in his smooth voice. _Scales,_ Artha thought. _Score one for the evil overlord, _Word thought and chuckled. "But then again, perhaps I am too." Word just hoped Moordryd could keep his temper in check. He focused his attention on the monitors, calmly flicking through the many cameras he had in order to find Artha's body.

"You don't put too much trust in Moordryd, do you?" Artha inquired. It couldn't hurt anything to understand Word and Moordryd's relationship with each other. He had already seen a fair amount of it, and it didn't seem too promising.

Word paused from his hunt and glanced back at this hostage. "No. It is foolish to place trust in anyone. Least of all, him. He's failed me too many times for that." As if sensing he'd told too much, Word abruptly concentrated his attention on the screens again.

Artha knew some of that was his fault, for preventing Moordryd from doing his father's evil schemes. He didn't regret stopping him, far from it. Anyway, it was Moordryd's fault if he couldn't beat him.

Artha sighed in impatient frustration. The whole thing did look pretty hopeless at the moment. All Moordryd had to do was ask some well thought out questions, and they would be answered. Or his friends could make an ill fated comment about his secret identity. Artha's heart sank. If Moordryd grew curious to what was hanging around his neck and put it into the gauntlet…would it work? Would he transform into the Dragon Booster? What if that happened in a busy street? Perhaps he would instantly recognize the gold gauntlet around his wrist. Perhaps it was already too late. His face took on a worried expression as he realized how hopeless it was indeed. Moordryd could be on his way back here right now, and his friends would wonder why he suddenly ran away after their conversation about the Dragon Booster. They would question his sudden laugh and choice of direction as he hurried away. He would return, and they would be switched again. Artha would be bound and suddenly…. He hated to think of what would happen. Word didn't even have to lay a trap for the unsuspecting Booster to walk into, he had him bound in his citadel. A doomed prisoner. He swallowed back the lump in his throat. He glanced at Word. He had to get out now, or perish.

Word, meanwhile, was humming softly to himself in an odd tune Artha couldn't identify. The synthetic lights from the screen played across his face as he gazed into each one, searching. Oh, how he did want to see them tell his son of the Dragon Booster. The wraith dragons, he was happy to notice, were dashing down streets. They wove in and out of traffic gracefully, never coming into contact with anything. They slipped by as what they were. Wraiths.

He hummed his tune again from the beginning. It was an old melody, forgotten by most, haunting in its sinister tone. It had survived from the ancient days of war and was the song of the pure black draconium dragons. Dragons he would once again create and command. Once again, very soon, this tune would haunt the ears of all. He chuckled softly as he hummed, which nearly destroyed the tune he was humming.

Artha frowned as Word continued his humming. How could he get out if Word wouldn't leave? He wished he would at least stop humming that song. The tune wasn't bad, but Word was probably the world's worst hummer. He had to think of something quick, something sly and coy to get Word to leave the room.

"Uh…Word Paynn!" He called out. Word stopped his channel surfing and straightened his back as he heard his son's voice.

"Yes?"

"Um…I think I heard something…out in the halls…" Artha stammered.

"Out in the halls?"

"Yes. In the halls."

"A noise? What kind?" Word inquired slickly, stroking his chin with his claws.

"A big noise. You'd better go check it out." Artha stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I will." Word said, and turned to a monitor, and flipped through the various cameras in his citadel. "Hmm, I see nothing. From what direction did this phantom noise come from?" He said, smiling.

_Scales,_ Artha thought. But it was just as well. Even if he got Word to leave the room, he had no way to get free. Word chuckled. "My, my Artha Penn, you do seem a but desperate, don't you? I can understand…"

"I bet you can." Artha muttered under his breath. Luckily for him, Word hadn't heard. Artha's mind worked frantically. Time was running out. He probably didn't have a chance to stop Moordryd from finding out. His only hope was to stop him before he reached his father. He glanced worriedly at Word. But how to get loose?

Suddenly, the room shook. The monitors flickered and the various objects Word kept on his table quivered. The entire citadel shuddered. It lasted no more than five seconds, and was soon over. Word and his captive both stood still, captured in shock. Word was the first to recover.

"What? What was that?"

"You mean you don't know either? Shocking." Artha said after a Word's sudden question shook him from his astonishment. Word spared a heated glare for Artha before turning to his screens.

"That shouldn't have happened. How…?" Artha barely heard Word mumble to himself. Word looked at his screens in near disgust. He turned to Artha with his face set in a frustrated glare. Artha smiled back and tried to look as innocent and as harmless as he could. Word scowled and looked the trapping gear over. When he was satisfied that Artha couldn't escape, he hurried out of the room. Artha stared in astonishment. That was easy. Now to get free….

But what made Word so worried? Why did he leave the room so quickly? What made the entire building shake? The city was built sturdily, not even a high level quake could shake it's foundations. But if it wasn't an earthquake, what was it? No wonder Word was worried. Something big must have happened right outside.

Artha kicked his foot against the wall and wriggled his whole body. He didn't move an inch. Word could be back anytime now. This could be his only chance. He yelled in defeat. Moordryd voice bounced back to him, and he wished he could cover his ears to lessen the sound of that voice. How could he get out?

"Moordryd?" Cain's voice called out.

"Cain?" Artha said surprised. He turned his head and looked for him. Finally, he spotted Cain peeking out from behind a huge door.

"Moordryd, what are you doing?" Cain said, and then looked at his best friend. It took a moment for Artha to realize he was silently asking whether Word Paynn was in the building. Artha shook his head and Cain came in and jogged over. "What happened?"

Artha smiled. Good old Cain. He paused before answering, "Cain get me down." He said in what he hoped was a Moordryd like manner. Cain quickly set to work freeing his boss.

"Is it safe?" Lance whispered to Parm and Kitt as they approached. Was it safe? Moordryd wondered. Had they been hiding from something? Well, then that would explain why they had been in the back of the gear room. Maybe the stable brat's life wasn't exceedingly dull.

"Don't worry. Your dad's busy in the back." Kitt said as she absently pointed with her finger in the general direction in which she spoke of.

"Yes, if we slip away now, we can be at the track before he knows we're gone." Parm said, tapping his watch. Moordryd's spirits fell. They were hiding from Artha's old man? Great. Some excitement.

"Let's sneak out very, very quietly." Lance said, and tiptoed to the door. Kitt rolled her eyes at his behavior. "Come on." She beckoned to Artha. "He should stay there for a while, but we can't be sure he will."

"Right." Moordryd said. "We, uh, sure don't want to get caught."

Kitt looked at him. "Not if you feel like cleaning out stables instead of practicing for the race." She grinned and followed Lance. Moordryd stopped in his tracks. Clean out the stables? Moordryd Paynn did not clean stables. But if Artha's father caught them and told them to…. Normally he didn't listen to adults unless he wanted to, but Artha Penn would. And refusing a direct order from Penn's father was not something he thought Penn would do. For the sake of keeping his disguise secret, he would have to…. No. He would not clean stables!

"Go, quicker!" He said impatiently. Parm nodded and cautiously peeked out of the gear room, searching for Connor. "Now?" Moordryd said louder.

"Wait, he's…he's coming! This way!" Parm said.

"What?" Moordryd nearly shouted. This couldn't happen, not to him.

"Umm, out the back door!" Lance said in sudden inspiration. Moordryd's hope leaped. If they could sneak out the back door…

"What? Lance this is a stable. There is no back door." Parm said, dashing Moordryd's hope.

"Well there should be." Lance huffed in reply. Moordryd stared at him.

"Well, distract him then!" Moordryd retorted to Parm.

"Oh, right. I'll distract him while you guys sneak out." Lance nodded eagerly at Parm's plan. He was having fun. Moordryd rolled his eyes as Parm stated the obvious plan.

"Magna Draconis, then do it!" Perhaps he had said that a bit too harsh, for Parm looked at him oddly, then muttered a, "fine," and walked out. Kitt and Lance gaped at him.

"I didn't know you could develop stablephobia so soon." Kitt joked. Moordryd glared at her. Lance giggled.

"Do you _want_ to clean stables?" Moordryd turned to him. Lance shook his head, his smile never leaving his grinning face. Moordryd sighed. Kitt moved to the door and peeked out. She held up a hand to stop them.

"Not yet…" She said. Lance cradled the two VIDD-games in his arms.

"Do you want to play me again?" He asked his older brother. Moordryd looked down on his expecting face.

"Uh…" What would Penn do? He asked himself. "Sure. Of course? After we get out of here."

"Yay!" Lance shouted, "I bet you can't…"

"Nice going, Lance!" Kitt whispered fiercely back. She stepped back as Connor entered, followed closely by Parm. "Oh, uh, look, I found them." She said and gestured to Lance and Artha.

"Thank you Kitt." Connor said knowingly. "Would you and Parm care to stay…"

"Uh, no!" They both said in unison. "I uh, have to work on the gear and fix it up…" Parm said and quickly left, even though he was already in the gear room.

"And, I have to…watch him!" She nodded and pointed after Parm.

"Well if you really must go…"

"I must." She said and fled after Parm. Moordryd stared disapprovingly after them.

"Some friends he has." Moordryd muttered.

"What?" Lance questioned and looked up at him. Moordryd realized he had talked out loud. He opened his mouth to say something, but Artha's father interrupted.

"Right then. The sooner you get started the sooner you can leave."

"But why? Artha has to race! He has to practice!" Lance protested. He glanced up at his older brother who apparently hadn't realized he was being addressed.

Lance nudged him rather harshly before he could get him to say, "yes! I have to practice to win the races! I'm not doing too well on the track, and evidently, I really, really need to practice. I mean really need to practice…father. So, I'll go now, and practice, because I need too, I mean really need…"

"Not so fast," Connor said, amused. Lance just looked up at his brother questioningly. "Just clean out one stable each, and then you can go practice. That's all I ask." He walked up to his eldest son and lay a hand on his shoulder. Moordryd looked at the hand, startled. But after it didn't turn into a vice-like grip as he expected, Connor continued. "You're racing fine, Artha. Better than I had hoped."

"Uh, thanks?" That was all Moordryd could say at the moment in his state of near shock. Connor merely smiled proudly at his son.

"Come now, you can finish the stables quickly if you work together. Just clean out the last two and you can be on your way." Moordryd opened his mouth for a violent protest, but forced it closed. It wouldn't do to have Artha Penn yell at his father over such a menial task.

Lance sighed and slowly and dejectedly walked to the door. "Fine, but I get first choice!" He said suddenly and broke into a run. Moordryd was at first confused, but then realized Lance would choose the cleanest of the two stables. If he absolutely had to clean one, he wasn't about to do the dirtiest.

"Get back here, min…er…kid!" He yelled and dashed off after him. Connor chuckled.

At first, just out of the gear room, Moordryd almost stumbled. Personally, he blamed Artha's body and Artha's shorter legs. He grumbled to himself about having to get used to the body. Nontheless, he easily past Lance, then slowed down. He had no idea where the stables were. Lance blew past him, running as fast as his legs would carry him. Moordryd trotted after him. He followed him to two adjacent stables. Lance peeked into both before nearly diving into one.

Moordryd winced. Lance had chosen the cleanliest of the two by far. He walked up to him and stood over him threateningly. Lance saw his frown and grinned. "Better get to work, Artha." He picked up a shovel which was leaning on the wall near the entrance.

"I think you're in the wrong stable." Moordryd said menacingly. Lance paused and looked at him.

His face turned from one of childish victory to one of anger. "You're not doing this again. _I_ was here first, so _I'm_ cleaning this one." He picked up the shovel, slung it over his shoulder and walked further into the stable. As he past him, Moordryd grabbed the end of the shovel, halting him. He looked into Lance's defiant eyes.

"I still think you ought to do the other stable."

"Artha!" Lance began to whine. "That one's messier."

"I know."

"It'll take longer."

"I know."

"But it stinks more!"

"I know." Moordryd said bluntly. He had caught a whiff of that room.

"You're older, you should do the harder one!"

"And you're younger, you…need more experience." Lance stamped his small foot in frustration.

"But I was here first!"

"And I'm here second." The two boys glared at each other. That is, until Lance had an idea.

"Are you really going to make me do the dirtier stable?" He asked sadly, and looked up at his older brother with puppy eyes. Moordryd groaned. Not this.

"Yes," he said gruffly, "you're doing…" He paused as Lance continued staring at him, his eyes growing bigger. "You're doing…you're doing…this stable." He gave in. Lance's face brightened.

"You're the best big brother ever, you know that? 'Cause you are." Lance looked at him in appreciation.

"I know." Moordryd grumbled and walked to the other stable. Lance's grin widened. This was the first time he had used this technique on Artha. Not only was Moordryd apparently immune to it, so was his brother. He had a new secret weapon. Perhaps no one was immune to it! He should try it on his father next. He chuckled mischievously.

Moordryd stood in the entrance to the stable and wrinkled his nose at the rancid smell. He couldn't believe he was doing this. He heard footsteps and turned around. Parm and Kitt walked up.

"Having fun?" Kitt mused as she approached. Then she suddenly offered a disapproving grunt at the smell and moved back a couple steps. Parm did the same.

"Now that you're here…" Moordryd started.

"Not a chance, stable boy." Kitt shook her head. "This is your job, not ours."

Parm whipped out his amazing calculator gadget and fiddled around with the various buttons. "But, by my calculations, I have devised a quicker way to…"

"I don't need your 'calculations.'" Moordryd said as he made air quotes. "You would be a bigger help if you grabbed an extra shovel and helped me shovel all this mess. Now."

"I see someone is a little on the bossy side today." Parm said and made no move to aid his friend. Not that Moordryd really expected him too. His only regret was that he couldn't make the egghead help. That was something he knew Penn wouldn't do. Insult or force his friends to do something.

"Is he ever!" Lance piped up from the next stable. He poked his head out. "I think he's afraid of work!"

"I am not."

"Are too. Stable boy." Lance shot back.

"Don't call me that, stable brat!"

"Whiny yellow bellied newt!" Lance called back. Moordryd muttered a rebuke under his breath. "What? I didn't catch that." Lance said, putting a hand to his ear.

Since Moordryd knew Artha would never say anything that vulgar, especially to his little brother, he had to make do. "Little dork." He muttered. Lance smirked at the uncreative rebuke.

"Stable brat, stable boy!" He called back, hoping it would have the same effect as before.

"Enough!" Moordryd yelled and threw down the shovel. Lance recoiled at the outburst.

"Calm down, Artha." Kitt said, as she and Parm were also shocked by the sudden display of anger. Moordryd nearly shook with rage. He forced himself to calm down. It would be easier to discover the Dragon Booster's identity if he didn't have Penn's friends cross with him.

"I'm…sorry." He said through gritted teeth. He hoped that would do. Parm and Kitt looked at each other. Artha sure was acting strange.

Moordryd groaned when he noticed he had thrown down the shovel into the dragon's nasty business. He picked it up carefully with his thumb and forefinger, being very careful not to touch the soiled parts. He looked at the others. "Would you care to bring me another shovel?" Parm nodded in agreement and turned to fetch another.

Suddenly, the entirety of Penn Stables shook. The ground beneath their feet vibrated as Lance clung to the doorframe of the stable. Moordryd lost his tentative grip on the shovel, and it slipped to hit him on the head. Seconds later, the shaking stopped. They all stood still.

"What…what in the Magna Draconis was that?" Parm said shakily.

"You mean you don't know?" Lance asked worriedly. Parm shook his head.

"What can make the entire city shake like that? Not an earthquake or anything else I can think of." Parm said nervously.

"Well, whatever it was, its stopped. And everything looks okay." Kitt tried to reassure them. They both had to agree at that.

"I think I've…" They all turned to Artha's voice, and at once forgot the disturbing event and broke into fits of giggles.

"Nice look, Artha." Lance sniggered. Kitt and Parm were laughing too hard to say anything. Moordryd didn't see what was so funny. He tried wiping the mess the shovel had left behind on his head with his arm, but only succeeding in smearing it about more. The others doubled over with laughter at his actions.

"Would…would you like me to bring you…a towel along with…with the shovel?" Parm could barely get his sentence out as he cackled louder than ever. Moordryd sighed. This wasn't his day….

In the wastelands beneath Dragon City, where the ancient statues and formations lay forgotten, where the land was untouched by humans for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, came an event that would shake history. In the middle of an unusually large clearing, rested an unnatural rise in the ground. The small hill abruptly shook, sending dust and rocks shooting into the air as it broke apart. The entire lost city shook. A large dome of mag energy began to rise, shielding the emergence of the ancient mag warrior.

He had made around himself a cocoon of mag energy, that protected him and preserved him since the original dragon-human war. Now he had returned.

As the debris settled, the purple glow of the dome intensified. Whips of energy radiated from it, heedlessly striking nearby objects. Deth had arrived.


	4. Growing Complications

Well, finally here's chapter four. Of course I want you to review! Any suggestions are most welcome.

_Chapter 4: Growing Complications_

Artha hurriedly jogged through the many twisting corridors of Word's citadel. He was free! Now he had to stop Moordryd. Artha hadn't been in Word's citadel too often, but he knew at least one way out. He was glad he still remembered it. It would look strange to Cain if Moordryd Paynn didn't know the way out of his father's citadel.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Cain said as he kept up with his friend.

"Because. I have to do something."

"But you've been saying that for the past few minutes. What do you have to do?" Cain followed Moordryd as he finally pushed through the heavy door barring the exit. The usual stale air greeted him as he stopped. Cain nearly ran into him. Barely managing to keep his balance, he then glared at Moordryd. "What does…"

"Cain!" Artha interrupted. "Umm…go get Decepshun for me, would you?" He would need a dragon to get to Moordryd, and he had no idea where Moordryd had left her. Cain stared at him.

"She's over there with Coershun. Right where you left her." Cain emphasized the last sentence.

Artha looked to where Cain was pointing. Standing right next to the citadel was a waiting Decepshun and Coershun. "Right then!" Artha said and put his hands on his hips. "I should get going then." He probably should have looked around first. He started to head to Moordryd's dragon, but was forced to stop as Cain firmly planted himself in his way.

"What happened back there?" Cain steeled himself for any type of tirade Moordryd would give. The Dragon Eye leader was unpredictable and not one for small talk.

"Well…" Artha started. Telling half the truth would be the best way to lie. "Uh…you see, my father…Word Paynn. You know, he…ah…made this mind transfer thing…device." Artha searched Cain's face for a sign of understanding. Cain looked skeptical, but slowly nodded.

"A mind transfer device?"

"Yes." Artha confirmed.

"Like the thing on your head?" Cain questioned. Artha looked at him in confusion until Cain pointed with his finger. Artha slowly lifted his hand and was surprised when he felt the cold gear. He took it off, and turned it over in his hands.

"Uh, yeah. This is it? This is it." He offered the grey head piece to Cain. Cain took it and twirled it around.

"This switches people's minds?"

"Apparently." Artha muttered.

"Why are you wearing it?"

"Well…uh, you see, Word…ah, my father, wanted to switch my mind with Artha Penn's."

"Why? You need a new brain?" Cain joked.

"Uh…okay. No. Well, yes, I kinda do, but this doesn't switch brains, it switches minds." Artha watched for Cain to show understanding.

"Okay." He grunted.

Artha continued. "He tied me up, so when he switched our minds Penn wouldn't go off to warn his friends."

"About what?"

"Well, Moor…er, I, was supposed to find out who the Dragon Booster was from them."

"Oh, I get it. He didn't want Penn to stop them from telling you." Cain said, tossing the gear from hand to hand.

"Uh…be careful with that…" Artha said. He didn't want the gear to break if Cain dropped it. He needed it to return to normal. Cain looked at him, rather amazed. Moordryd hadn't yelled at him or barked the order. It almost came out as a question. "Yes. Precisely," Artha continued, feeling uncomfortable with Cain's confused and searching stare, "but it didn't work, and my father went to see if he could find out what was wrong with it. But he forgot to let me down. So, when he fixes it, I'll come back and go into Penn's body to find the Dragon Booster." Artha hoped that explanation would suffice.

Cain looked at him suspiciously, and Artha held his breath. "Well that makes sense." He finally said and Artha quickly agreed with him. "How can he fix it if you have it?"

"It's not the gear, it's the computer…"

"Oh. Mind transfer? Drac. Can he switch anyone's minds?"

"Uh, I guess so. But, it's an extremely long process…to…to switch minds, so he wouldn't be able to do it for anyone else. No one else." Cain looked crestfallen. Artha took advantage of this pause and headed to the dragons. He had wasted enough time. He jogged up to Decepshun. Cain stopped looking at the gear in his hands and stared after Moordyd. He was sure acting odd this afternoon. Cain couldn't put his finger on it, but Moordryd just seemed too…too nice.

Artha breathed a sigh of relief as he left Cain standing back there. He really was wasting too much time. "Hey, wait!" He heard Cain call after him. Then he felt Cain's rough hands grasp his arm. "Hold up." Artha reluctantly slowed.

"Cain, I really have to go…"

"How do I know the mind transfer hasn't occurred already? How do I know you're not Artha Penn?"

Artha turned to Cain, exasperated. "Cain, if I were that stable brat, would I have told you about the mind transfer device? Would I have known the way out of my father's citadel?" Cain recoiled at Moordryd's loud voice.

"Uh…," he stammered as he thought it over, "I guess not…"

"Well, there you go." Artha yanked his arm out of Cain's grip and headed to Decepshun once more. He smiled inwardly. He could act like Moordryd if he wanted. Cain followed, holding the gear deftly. As they neared the dragons, Coershun purred when he noticed Cain returning. Decepshun tossed her head, eager to be off. She was tired of waiting. But as Moordryd came closer, she suddenly backed up and hissed.

Artha stopped suddenly, startled. Cain bumped into him and almost dropped the gear. They both looked at Decepshun questioningly.

Coershun glanced at his partner. Decepshun noticed his glance, and stopped hissing. She couldn't tell him what was wrong, she herself had no idea. She just knew something was amiss.

Artha, however, simply said, "Uh, well I've got to get going." Then he slowly approached Decepshun once more. She stood her ground, and allowed him to mount. Something was wrong here. If she had growled at Moordryd, he wouldn't have ignored it. He would have set her straight. Cain and Coershun knew this too, and they both looked on in near bewilderment.

Artha settled himself in the saddle, and noticed their stares. "Cain!" He barked.

Cain started. "What?"

"Uh, go do your, uh, your duties. NOW!" He shouted and glared at him. Cain, easily cowed, jumped into Coershun's saddles.

"What exactly do you want me to do?" He asked warily. Apparently, Moordryd was having violent mood swings, and Cain was not about to aggravate him.

Artha continued glaring at Cain, his mind furiously working to think of something. He had to leave now. "Uh, do, er, clean out the dragon's stables!" He said menacingly.

Cain looked confused. "But I don't clean out the stables. That's the…."

"I don't care if you don't clean stables, you do now!"

"All of them?"

"Yes. All of them."

"Seriously? I can't clean hundreds of stables. I…I can't even clean one." Cain whimpered.

Artha was slightly taken aback. Hundreds? That was a lot of black dragons. Then again, the Dragon Eye crew was one of the biggest crews there were. "Then only clean one."

"But why can't I get one of the new members to clean it?"

"Because I want you too." Artha smirked. He wondered if Cain would actually do it. Cain started to protest again, but fell silent as Artha glared at him. "But I've got to go. And Cain," he said and waited until he had Cain's full attention again, "I want to see a spotless stable when I come back." Cain nodded grimly. Artha inwardly laughed. He was sure it would be rather embarrassing for the second in command to do a new recruit's task. Mucking out stables, no less. He forced the handles forward, and Decepshun lumbered off.

"Wait…" Cain called. Artha turned around, halting Decepshun, who spared him a heated glare. She was angry at herself. Something was wrong with her rider, and she couldn't figure it out. She growled softly in annoyance.

"What? Make it quick." Artha snapped atop the puzzled dragon.

"I came here to tell you something. Vizz…he…" Cain paused. Artha waited.

"Well, what did…Vizz do?" Whoever Vizz was.

"Vizz broke rule 24 again."

"…oh?" Artha said, startled. Dragon Eyes had rules?

Cain grinned. "What's his punishment?"

"Ah, make him clean a stable as well."

"What? But he broke the rule!"

"As I heard. Have him clean the stable next to yours." Cain stared at the leader of the Dragon Eyes.

"Fine. If you wish," he said in a sarcastic tone. At least he wouldn't be cleaning stables alone. Decepshun leapt into a run at her rider's bidding. As she turned and disappeared out of sight, Cain activated his VIDD-screen. Vizz came up on the other end.

"Well…what…" Vizz stammered nervously and wet his lips. "What did Moordryd say?"

"It seems you got off rather lucky, Fizzy Vizzy." Cain said. He smiled mischievously as Vizz's eye twitched at the nickname. "Moordryd said you had to clean _two_ stables."

"Wha…? Clean two stables? But I blew up the equipment building…"

"Do you want me to ask Moordryd to reconsider your punishment?"

"No…I'll clean the stables." Vizz said, despondent yet pleased.

"Good. I'll be coming to watch. And they better be spotless." Vizz nodded an agreement and Cain terminated the connection. Then he realized he still held the gear. The strange head piece was still in his possession. Moordryd would come and get it when he wanted it. Cain held the gear protectively and Coershun bounded away to Down City.

"I am never cleaning a stable again." Moordryd stated sourly as he rode atop Beau.

"You won't. That is, until Connor needs some help in the stables again." Kitt smirked at Artha as she rode beside on Wyldfyr. They, including Lance and Parm, had finally set out for the track to practice. Moordryd had come along without complaint. He expected to find the Dragon Booster's identity, then hightail it to his father's citadel quickly. But in the meantime, Moordryd sneered at Kitt, who smiled coyly. Lance and Parm were riding up ahead, occasionally looking back at the two.

Moordryd sulked. Everyone else, after the enjoyment of the dialogue died out, looked at each other. Artha had been acting pretty strange this afternoon. At first, they dismissed it as a bad mood, but after he tripped over a shovel he threw on the ground in frustration at cleaning the stable and then fell into the dragon poop, he spat out a string of curses unsuitable for repeating. This astonished everyone, including poor Lance who happened to be standing right next to him. He was very lucky Connor had not been there and had dismissed any criticism Kitt and Parm threw at him.

As Artha's friends worried about him, Moordryd prepared to finally ask the right questions directed towards the Dragon Booster's identity. But first….

He glanced over at Kitt. When she turned towards him he winked slyly. She looked at him questioningly. Then Moordryd made Artha flutter his eyelashes at her and look at her in a desirable way. This made Kitt even more perplexed. Then he made a kissing face at her and urged Beau to leap ahead and fall beside Lance. As Kitt was left flummoxed, Moordryd smiled. While he was in Penn's body, he might as well have some fun ruining his life.

He made a point of not looking back at Kitt. "So, Lance." He looked down at Artha's younger brother.

"Yeah?" Lance replied, keeping his eyes on the street ahead.

"Now the Dragon Booster…." Moordryd started.

"Oh, let's not start that again!" Parm said and threw his hands up in exasperation.

"What?" Moordryd said, surprised.

"Oh, please. You know perfectly well what!"

"I forget…." Moordryd said slowly, not quite what sure to say. Parm did not look amused.

"Really. I thought you had grown up a bit and stopped ranting on how great the 'Dragon Booster' was." Parm said. Moordryd inwardly groaned. He was so close. "Oh, wasn't the Dragon Booster simply drac last night? Or, the Drag…."

"Give it a rest, Parm. He hasn't done it in a while." Kitt, now over her shock, said as Wyldfyr pulled up beside Cyrano.

"It'd be nice if he wouldn't start it again." Parm huffed.

"I never said I would!" Moordryd protested.

"Listen. Let's just get to the track, and forget about 'Dragon Booster' till Moordryd starts something again." Kitt said, trying to instill peace amongst the Penn Racing Crew. Moordryd frowned.

"Or unless the Shadow Booster appears!" Lance quipped in a spooky voice. He glanced around at the shadows.

"Pretty tough competition for the Dragon Booster, isn't he?" Moordryd said, wanting to keep the conversation on the Dragon Booster.

Parm sighed, exasperated once again. "I don't know, Artha. Is he?" Moordryd stared back at Parm, confused.

"Don't look now. Let's just hope he doesn't give us any trouble." Kitt sighed. They all turned to look. Down below, on a drag way a level down, was Moordryd Paynn.

"Oh, great." Parm huffed. Moordryd merely stared at his body in amazement. How did he get loose? If Penn came now, Moordryd would lose what chance he had of uncovering the Dragon Booster. Not to mention his father would be more than furious at him.

"Uh, race you to the track." He said quickly. He could ask questions later. Now they had to lose Artha, or rather, lose his body.

"Race?" Parm inquired. "Why? Do you want Dragon City Security to ticket us?"

"No, but I don't feel like running into Moordryd Paynn right now either." Moordryd shot back.

"He's got a point. We won't go too fast, for your sake." Kitt smirked.

"What? I can keep up." Parm insisted while Lance chuckled.

"Then let's see if you can beat me!" He said energetically and Fracshun raced off down the street.

"Lance! Turn left!" Kitt called after him. Lance turned, retraced his steps and this time he raced down the correct street.

"Do you need a head start as well?" Moordryd said to Parm teasingly.

"I most certainly…do." As Parm prepared to race off, he glanced to where Moordryd had been. "At least we won't run into that big hydrag again." Cyrano lurched into a gallop after Lance, leaving the other two riders. Kitt glanced over at Artha.

"Uh, Artha…." She started, then paused and looked down. She tried to think of something to say. His actions before startled her, and she wasn't quite sure what she thought of them yet. She never expected Artha to be that forward. When she looked back up, she was irritated to see that Artha wasn't even paying attention. "…Artha…" She said again, uncertainly. He still didn't acknowledge her. "Hey, hero boy!"

Moordryd jumped at the loud voice and turned to see an angry Kitt. "What?"

"Oh, never mind." She grunted sourly, and urged Wyldfyr to follow Cyrano. "Nothing." She repeated as she raced away.

Moordryd grinned. He wondered what Artha would do if Kitt confronted him again. He chuckled softly at the thought. He was interrupted when Beau shook his head. "Hey!" Beau merely snorted at him.

To him, Artha was acting very, very strange. Beau had been willing to dismiss it, but now he was very suspicious. Something was wrong, and he was going to find out what. Artha was even riding differently. He was riding more smoothly, like he had been riding dragons long before Beau. Artha pushed forward on the handles repeatedly. "Come on." Beau inevitably obliged, and leapt into a run.

As they raced off after Kitt, Moordryd urged Beau to go faster. He would beat them all. _Big hydrag? _He'd show that egg-head who the big hydrag was. He grinned.

Decepshun had swiftly maneuvered herself to Mid City, constantly bidden by her rider to go ever faster. Moordryd hadn't even told her why he was in such a hurry. Usually, he told her wherever they were going and let her pick some of the streets herself. But today, his mouth remained shut and he handled her with a firm grip on the controls. She knew something was wrong about him, but she couldn't figure out what. He moved differently, and, after his encounter with Cain, apparently talked differently too. He was much more calm and hadn't even barked a harsh word he meant.

Artha kept his eyes on the streets ahead and raced through them heedlessly. He was no longer Artha Penn, he was Moordryd Paynn now, and Moordryd did not slow down for others. Besides, if he got in trouble with the law, it would be Moordryd himself who would end up paying the long term effects of it.

He dashed down streets, feeling every minute, every second that passed by. He turned Decepshun down a street leading to Penn Stables. He had to stop Paynn.

As the Stables reared into view, he pulled back on the handles sharply, skidding to a halt. Lance, Parm, Kitt and him had planned to go practice racing. They wouldn't be at the stables. Decepshun snorted, angry that she had no idea what was going on.

Artha ignored her and chose another street, one which Decepshun bounded down sourly. He didn't have time to care whether Moordryd's dragon was annoyed with him.

After a few more minutes, Artha became frantic. What if Moordryd had already found out and was heading back to the citadel? He was going in the wrong direction. He slowed down, and tried to steady his thoughts. Decepshun snorted, not at him, but at the figures on a dragway a level up. He glanced half-heartedly, and was soon glad he bothered to look.

Kitt! Parm! And where was Lance going? He wanted to shout out to them, then stopped. What would he say? They'd only try to lose him, Moordryd Paynn, if he tried to say anything. 'Artha Penn' would only deny whatever claims he said about mind tranfers. At least Moordryd didn't know who he really was yet, otherwise he'd be heading back to his father.

Artha saw Parm glance at him in disgust and hurry away with Cyrano, following Fracshun. Artha pushed forward on the handles and quickly tried to find a way to catch up, where he could better tell the truth.

Word reentered his citadel, his fears now confirmed. His face betrayed feelings of irritation and contemplation. Since that fool from the past was back…. Wrapped in his thoughts, he sat down in his huge chair without looking to where he should have had his son's body stuck to the wall.

Deth had returned, he knew that much. He also knew Deth had long ago vowed revenge on the Dragon Booster. First Armaggeddon, now Deth. At least it wasn't possible for any other past mag warriors to suddenly appear. Deth interfered with his plans. He would attack the Dragon Booster first chance he got, which would make it harder for him to plan a surprise attack on the hero. Deth may be able to defeat the Dragon Booster, but Word couldn't be sure. He had been beaten in the original Dragon-Human easily when the Dragon Booster learned to release the dragon. Deth wasn't even a very powerful mag warrior if compared to Armaggeddon. He knew about as much as Word himself did. Besides, Word wanted to defeat the Dragon Booster himself. He couldn't allow Deth to have that satisfaction.

He drummed his claws on the table, then turned to Artha Penn, intending to speak to him. He almost gasped in surprise. The wall was empty and the green trapping gear was huddled on the floor. He clenched his fists tightly. How did he free himself? What outside help did he receive?

He swiveled his chair with a cry of frustration and turned on a monitor. He set it to one of the cameras he had mounted in the high corners of his citadel. The camera was locked onto Artha Penn's position, which now happened to be a heap of green trapping gear. Word rewound the tape until he saw Moordryd's body walk into the citadel backwards. Cain walked in backwards with him. Word stroked his chin. So that was how he escaped. Tricking Moordryd's crony, not all that hard, into setting him free.

"Well done, Artha Penn. But you now present a problem." Word turned to two other screens. "And if I see a problem, I fix it." Word spoke to the screens in a threatening voice. Soon, the two screens showed the images from the two cameras implanted on the wraith dragons. They had finally arrived at Penn Stables. Unfortunately, Artha Penn's body was no where to be seen. Word sighed irritably.

Soon, he left his citadel, walking urgently. He had many things to do. But before leaving, he had instructed the wraiths to proceed with a new mission. One continued to find his son in Penn's body, whom Word would warn of the new threat, while the other was sent to keep an eye on Deth….

The vacant wasteland lay stretched before him. A dust trail billowed softly as a few young Hydrags fled the huge dome of mag energy. Their defiance and courage had quickly withered after the sudden demise of their comrade. Deth let the dome dissipate and breathed in the air of a time he did not belong to. Slowly he advanced to a drag way that would eventually lead into the occupied parts of Dragon City. A drag way that would also lead him to the Dragon Booster. He could sense him, the gold draconium he held, miles above.

Syrrox instantly moved forward at Deth's touch, and passed over the body of the deceased Hydrag, not bothering to watch his footfalls. Deth reveled in the wet sound of flesh and bone as Syrrox's hind foot crushed the animal into the ground. How could the Dragon Booster stand against him and his colossal dragon? He had learned much from his last meeting with the Dragon Booster.

The Dragon Booster had deserved death for what he had done to Deth. He deserved punishment, but was instead praised for defeating him when he came to induce justice. The Dragon Booster had escaped from the fate he deserved. Even though he was now long dead, Deth intended to obtain his revenge on the new Dragon Booster. A weaker Dragon Booster.

He had finally sensed him, and with great anticipation, had broken free of his cocoon. After he had destroyed the Dragon Booster, he would once again join the opposition. But this time, instead of being Armaggeddon's second in command, he would rule.

He was aware of Armaggeddon's presence. So he had finally escaped from the Shadow Track. Weakened by the nightmares he lived for the past two thousand years, he would be less trouble than he once was. Syrrox let out a long, thundering roar which shook the rubble built around them. Who could stop Deth?


	5. The Unveiling

Thanks for everyone for reviewing, and I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I had homework and was also writing my other fic, but at least this is done now. :) Enjoy!

_Chapter 5: The Unveiling_

Moordryd narrowed his eyes in determination and urged Beau ever onward. Deftly, they raced past Lance, never taking their eyes off the true prize. Passing Parm on his huge lumbering dragon was no challenge, but Moordryd spared him a silent praise. It was clear on Parm's face that he wasn't liking the speed of the race, but his willpower to try his best deserved a bit of acknowledgement. Parm had his face set in a grimace of extreme dislike and tremendous resolve as he kept a tight grip on the handles. Whether it was tightened in fear or determination, Moordryd could not say. Perhaps the egg-head wasn't as weak as he came off to be. Perhaps.

Beau lengthened his strides and Moordryd flattened himself in the saddle, allowing the whipping wind better passage over his body. Buildings lining the alley way passed by in a blur as they raced between them. Kitt remained ahead, confident on her bipedal dragon. Moordryd's mouth tightened. The sooner they got to the track, the sooner Moordryd could resume talking, learn the idiot's identity and leave. There was no reason why he couldn't force a faster pace and beat them all there.

Slightly surprised at Beau's strength and speed, Moordryd slowly closed the gap between Kitt and him. Though it wasn't easy. Kitt was one of the best racers in the All-City Circuit, and Moordryd wasn't used to this new dragon as of yet.

Glancing ahead, he could see the faint light of the endless advertisements on huge screens. The alley was coming to an end and soon they would be thrust into the light and a rather busy street. Beyond that invisible line lay the end of the race. There was absolutely no way he could coax Artha's friends into rushing through the streets. If he was to win, it had to be now.

He pushed the handles ahead, and Beau quickened his steps. He was eager to pass Wyldfyr. He was, after all, the dragon of legend.

Moordryd had his head lowered as close to Beau as he dared. He didn't want to get whacked in the chin by the saddle. Artha's helmet had no lower protection like his did. He moved with Beau as he rose and fell with his strides. They weaved between discarded boxes and junk, following the flame red dragon. He smiled in anticipation.

Suddenly, right in his face, popped up the green VIDD-screen. Surprised he jerked back, accidentally pulling the handles as he did so. Beau, upon instinct, slowed down, and nearly fell in doing so. Forced to stop in order to keep his balance, Beau stood irritably. He snorted at the sudden misunderstanding, and looked back to Parm and Lance. The race was now over, according to him.

"Artha." Connor said with authority. His tone made it clear this was not going to be a talk that allowed any such nonsense of any sort.

"What?" Moordryd said, forcing down the anger that threatened to surface through his voice. Artha sure did have a bossy father.

"Get back here now!" Yep, he sure did.

"Is there a good reason why I should?" Moordryd casually said, a bit miffed that he wasn't able to catch up to Kitt.

Connor sighed. "You must get back here, there is danger!"

"Danger?" Parm inquired as he pulled up beside Beau on Cyrano. Frachsun wasn't far behind.

"Artha, I want you and your friends here now! There isn't much time. He's coming to Mid City, even as we speak." Connor's worried and hurried voice set Moordryd at unease. Lance shifted in his saddle at his father's words.

"Who?" Moordryd asked as Kitt rode up. She opened her mouth to question the delay, but shut it after a look at their faces.

"Deth, I fear."

"Death? Death has come to Dragon City?" Lance quivered. "We're going to die?"

"What? No, no. Deth is the name of an ancient mag warrior who has been lost for thousands of years. I've sensed his huge output of black mag energy."

"You…sensed his mag energy?" Moordryd said, alarmed. How on earth could Artha's old man do that?

"Yes. Much like Armaggeddon's. He's not as dangerous as him, but still a formidable enemy, even for me." Connor's explanation help none and made Moordryd even more confused.

Connor saw his son's confused face. "Just get back here, quickly. Before he comes. Deth has only one purpose in mind, to destroy the Dragon Booster." The VIDD-screen winked out of existence leaving the four riders to stare at the spot it had been. Fracshun whimpered softly.

"That doesn't sound good." Lance said in a small voice. Moordryd glanced around at the others.

"We should get back." Kitt said, breaking the silence.

"Uh, yeah. Right." Parm said, apparently coming out of a stupor. "Before Det..De…oh why do all the powerful mag warriors have such frightening names?"

"I think it's drac." Lance piped up, the seriousness of the situation suddenly lost on him.

"It's not drac, it's…it's…worrisome." Parm took hold of the handles and turned Cyrano around.

"It's a rule, professor," said Kitt, "If you're one of the bad guys you have to have an evil sounding name." She smirked playfully at his grimace. "You wouldn't want to get beat up by someone called…"

"Newt Brain!" Lance called out.

"…uh, okay. Someone with a name like that now would you?"

"Well, no…" Parm said, getting her point.

"Knowing you it's all too likely." Moordryd said. He grinned at Parm's open mouthed astonishment.

"What? Are you insinuating that I'm…."

"We should really head back now." Kitt interrupted, hoping to avoid any unnecessary arguing. "Connor sounded really serious, and," she said to Parm, "with a name like Deth, I'm assuming he's pretty bad news." She looked him in the eyes and he nodded, understanding her meaning. Even though Artha was acting like a jerk this afternoon, he was still his best friend and Parm couldn't hold it against him if he had a bad day. He sighed and Cyrano lurched forward at a quick pace. Lance and Fracshun bounded along beside him.

"Come on, hero boy. We're all in danger." Kitt said somberly. Moordryd contemplated her words as Wyldfyr rushed after the others. His father probably hadn't anticipated this. But it could work out in his favor. He would go back with them and they would surely meet up with the Dragon Booster. Moordryd could learn his identity there. The Dragon Booster did, after all, have to stop Deth. He chuckled softly. His father wouldn't have to deal with the Dragon Blunder, Deth would finish him off for him.

Beau's eyes narrowed in suspicion as Artha seemingly chuckled at nothing. What in the Magna Draconis could be so funny at a time like this? He had to fight Deth, and he found this amusing? Beau snorted and wheeled around to catch up with the others.

Moordryd barely caught the handles in time to steady himself. He hated it when Penn's dragon did that.

-----------------

Word glared at the monitors, fists tightly curled in anger. Where was that son of his? How hard was it to find the Dragon Booster's identity, concealed as one of his friends? In rage, he slammed one of his fists against a screen. It wobbled, but soon steadied itself. The image flickered then sprang back to life. Word sighed in exasperation. Suddenly something on the flickering screen caught his eye, and he leaned in closer for a better look.

The camera on the wraith dragon he had sent to find his son had found something else.

"Excellent." He mused as he saw the figure racing through the streets. "At least I've found you."

-----------------

Decepshun bounded down all and every single short cut Artha could think of. He had to get to the track. He had to find Moordryd. But for all he knew, Moordryd could be racing back to his father and he would miss him. He just had to find his friends and ask whether they've seen him.

At his urging, Decepshun went faster. She grinned. She liked to go fast, and the garbage that littered this alleyway made for great obstacles. She changed her course to go leaping over the ones that were out of her way.

Artha frowned at Moordryd's dragon. "No, no playing. Stop jumping over the trash." With a firm hand he forced her down the middle and insisted her to go faster. She complied, realizing that Moordryd was indeed in a hurry. Though it would've helped if he told her where and why. She silently fumed.

Artha kept his eyes ahead. Get to the track and hope they were there. They rushed out of the alley and headed down a drag way, which, to Artha's extreme relief, was nearly empty. "WOAH!" He said suddenly. Decepshun skidded to a halt in the middle of the bridge. At his insistence she walked over to the side.

Artha leaned over and smiled at the sight. He found them again! They were speeding down an alleyway below him. Hopefully they wouldn't run away again. At a rather quick pace, they were headed back to…Penn Stables? Cyrano was running as fast as Parm would allow him to go. Lance, Kitt and Beau were right beside him. Artha glared at his body. Paynn was really going to get it.

He checked the distance from the drag way he was on to the alleyway beneath. Decepshun should be able to jump down safely. "Uh, time to catch Penn!" He said with mock enthusiasm. Decepshun turned from looking at her rider to the figures below. She snorted in understanding. Artha made a mental note to himself that Decepshun was smarter than the average dragon. He could use that to his advantage.

All of a sudden, a threatening growl made Decepshun forget about the jump down. She growled dangerously at the familiar sound. She faced the sound as Artha peered around. He couldn't see what had made the sound. There was nothing on the drag way except for him. Decepshun warily backed up. Then Artha understood. Wraith dragon.

Decepshun snorted at the wraith, dismissing it. After all, Word's wraith were everywhere and wouldn't attack Moordryd and her. Artha, on the other hand, swallowed hard. Word must have found him. And was now planning to do away with him. Wait a minute. Word wouldn't attack his son's body, would he? Moordryd had to use this later.

The heavy footsteps of the wraith suddenly increased as it sped towards them. Then again, Artha wasn't eager to find out. He turned Decepshun in the opposite direction and raced away from the incoming dragon. The wraith ran faster and gained ground.

Artha glanced ahead and noticed a gap in the buildings where the bridge ended. Turning Decepshun sharply, he careened in between the buildings. As his tension, impatience and anxiety all fought each other inside him, he realized too late the hastiness of his decision.

As soon as he entered the tiny alleyway, he noticed how dangerous it was, for a racing dragon. Huge piles of junk and who knows what lay scattered about. "Woah!" He cried as Decepshun ran into the impossible obstacle course. She hit the stacks of junk and fell, throwing Artha off in the process.

After the world decided to stop flipping and jumping about, Artha opened his eyes blearily. He was laying on his back on a pile of boxes and crates. Mounds of rubbish loomed over him as he glanced around for Decepshun, his eyes meeting the wraith instead.

It had turned off its cloaking device and was smiling in Artha's face, ready to strike. With no further delay, it's jaws suddenly snapped at his right arm, intending to drag him back to Word.

Artha braced himself for the screaming pain he knew would ensue as the wraith's teeth locked onto his arm. But instead, the wraith reared back as soon as it's teeth met with his arm, shrieking with pain. It had closed it's jaws on Artha's arm too fast and with too much force, the combination of which nearly broke its teeth.

As it roared and Artha stared in amazement, Decepshun bounded at the wraith from within the heaps of garbage. She swung her front paw and hit the defenseless wraith, sending it toppling back onto the street. Decepshun quickly magged her rider and raced past the wraith back to the bridge. She easily jumped down and ran off in the direction the Penns had gone earlier.

Artha looked over his shoulder. The bridge was quickly fading out of sight. No wraith followed. Artha then grabbed the handles, relaxing with the fact he was in control and headed after Paynn. Decepshun grinned up at him. She was having fun now.

Why in the Magna Draconis hadn't his arm been impaled by the wraith's teeth? Artha asked himself. He lifted Moordryd's jacket's sleeve. What he found shocked him, and all he could do was be thankful for a black draconium gauntlet, of which no mark was left by the dragon's teeth.

----------------

As Penn Stables reared into view, the four friends slowed down their hurried pace. Looking ahead, Moordryd could see Connor waiting at the entrance to the stables. Pacing back and forth, he seemed overwhelmed with worry. He looked up as they finally approached, relief washing over his tired face.

"Wow, you seemed pretty worried there." Kitt said as a remark at his expression. They all stopped before him.

Connor sighed, "I don't think any of you realize the seriousness of this situation."

"How serious is it?" Lance asked, leaning forward on Frachsun as they stood beside his father.

"Deth is an ancient mag warrior like Armaggeddon. In the past, he was the second in command of the black draconium empire, second only to Armaggeddon." He glanced around, making sure they were all paying close attention. Moordryd found himself riveted by his tale. Someone as strong as Armaggeddon? He wondered what was in store for the future.

Connor continued, "though he wasn't as strong as Armaggeddon, he was one of the leading mag warriors of that time. After Armaggeddon was locked in the Shadow Track Deth took over the empire. He was much more aggressive and ruthless. Whereas Armaggeddon specialized in planning and tactics, Deth specialized in brutality. And now he has come here."

Moordryd then understood. One ancient mag warrior was bad enough, but two? Warriors who might either band together or fight against each other. Moordryd didn't know which would be worse. He glanced at Parm, and was vaguely surprised he hadn't run under a rock yet.

"Bru…br…brutality? He's here? Magna Draconis, do you realize how astronomical the odds are of having two mag warriors here…and what are we going to do?" Parm quivered.

"He also has a personal grudge against the Dragon Booster, and I'm assuming unlike Armaggeddon, he'll stop at nothing to kill the Dragon Booster. Which is why he's on his way here now." Connor said in a toneless voice.

"He's going to zone in for the kill right away, won't he?" Kitt said in a near whisper.

Connor nodded his head stiffly. "We have to be prepared for the worst." He turned to his eldest son. "We can't let Deth make it to Mid City. With all the dangerous mag moves he'll pull out, there'll be many deaths. He's in Precinct at the moment, just entering Work Town."

"Can't the DCS do anything?" Kitt asked.

"The DCS will have enough on their hands with the panic and destruction Deth will cause. Artha and I will lead Deth into the Old City, as far away as possible from places where he can cause serious injury."

Moordryd, who had idly been inspecting his fingers, looked up sharply. As far as he was concerned, when Deth arrived, the Dragon Booster would get his butt kicked and Moordryd would watch from a decent place. "What? You and me? Shouldn't the Dragon Booster handle this? Speaking of which, where is he?" He quickly asked, and glanced around. The others stared at him.

"Artha," Connor, thinking his son frightened, said slowly, "I'll be with you." Moordryd stared back at him. No way was he going to face this Deth.

"Yeah, but…."

"It's okay to be afraid." Connor reassured his son.

"But…."

"Just stay ahead of him and lead him to the Old City."

"I know….

"I'll take it from there."

"But why me? Shouldn't the…."

"Artha, being the Dragon Booster requires courage in the face of danger."

"…."

Connor sighed. "I know you can do this. You have already showed the necessary skills when facing Drakkus. I need you to do this. I won't let anything happen to you." Moordryd continued staring at this potentially delusional old man.

Kitt smiled over at Artha. "Yeah, stable boy, we'll be right behind you…" Connor glared at Kitt and shook his head slightly, "…at a safe distance?" At Connor's nod she continued, somewhat depressed. "Deth doesn't stand a chance against the Dragon Booster and Mortis."

Lance nodded his small head eagerly. "You'll kick his scales so hard he'll…."

"Lance." Connor said in a stern tone.

"Uh, you'll just beat him good!" Lance smiled. Parm nodded in agreement from Cyrano.

"But…I…I've…" Moordryd stuttered. "I…I'm…." The others looked at him expectantly. He couldn't be the Dragon Booster! He wasn't going to face off against Deth, and have his father perhaps attack him, not knowing Moordryd was in the suit.

"You put the amulet into the gauntlet…." Lance said slowly, demonstrating as he did so. "And then you shout, 'release the dragon!'"

"Umm…." Moordryd said as he broke out into a sweat and put a hand on the amulet hanging around his neck. Him? The Dragon Booster? Not now he wasn't. "But I'm not…."

"Hold it right there!" Came a voice so horribly familiar to Moordryd. This day just kept getting better and better. He turned around to face the newcomer and his dragon. Decepshun snorted at the Penn family as Moordryd frantically thought what to do.


	6. A Formed Plan

I realized its been a while since I updated this. You can blame homework on that. :P Enjoy this chapter, please!

_Chapter 6: A Formed Plan_

Parm, who had been twiddling his fingers in severe apprehension, looked up sharply and glowered. Moordryd Paynn was the last person he wanted to see. He looked over at the others. Kitt frowned deeply and shared Parm's exact feelings. Artha and his dad were about to do something dangerous, and they did not need Moordryd Paynn and whatever he had to say. They all glared at him as he approached, especially Artha, who looked surprised as well.

"We're rather busy right now, why don't you come back later? We should be free in a few hundred years, check back with us then. No hurry." Kitt nearly spat. The others scowled at him to let him know his presence was not wanted at this particular time. Things were bad enough without having Paynn to make it worse.

Paynn ignored the hint and walked his dragon right up to them, and stopped a few feet away. Parm was slightly surprised to see he was much, much angrier than any of them. He was practically snarling. He glared right at Artha, grinding his teeth.

Artha looked taken aback, and tried to look innocent. Parm stepped up to the plate. "Listen here," he said as Moordryd spared him a fleeting glance which he quickly focused on Artha again, "if you've come to give us a hard time, to steal our dragons or to simply insult us, I suggest you move along!"

"Move along, Moordryd. Now's not the time." Connor said in a stern voice. Moordryd ignored them all.

He continued to stare down Artha. "What? We are busy, so you can just leave…." Artha said.

"Just leave? You think I'm just going to leave?" Moordryd yelled. "After what you did?"

"Well, maybe no…I mean, what do you mean?" Artha asked, apparently clueless.

"You know what you did! And I know what you're trying to do, but it won't work!" Moordryd yelled back.

"I still don't unders…."

"Don't play stupid, you know eventually they'll believe me." Moordryd sneered back. Artha thought this over. "I know things only the real Artha Penn knows, there is no way you could bluff your way out of that."

"But I had nothing to do with this!" He said, switching tactics, trying to escape all blame from what, Parm had no idea.

"What do you mean, you had nothing to do with this? Look at yourself!" Lance looked up at his older brother, but could see nothing unusual. And since when did Moordryd know a lot about Artha Penn?

"I mean, it wasn't my idea!" Artha shouted back.

"Big deal, you still went along with it!" Moordryd said loudly.

"Because I had to!"

"Because you wanted to!"

"I was forced to do it!" Artha yelled back, growing angrier by the minute. But not near as vexed as Moordryd seemed.

"So you're saying you didn't want to do this?"

"No...yes…no! I didn't want to be like this! But since I had to…."

"Oh, so no scales off your back!"

"Hey! Listen you scale-scraping stable brat!" Artha yelled. What followed was utter silence. Moordryd seemed to calm down somewhat, as everyone else watched in complete shock.

"Stable brat?" Kitt questioned. Parm was as perplexed as she. Since when did Moordryd become a stable brat?

"One, I was forced to do this." Artha said breathlessly, holding up a finger. "Two, I didn't mind doing it that much, especially since I'd find out who you really were. Third, I had no idea, absolutely no idea, this…this Deth would come, and ruin everything! And now, he's come to kill me, and he has no idea he's killing the wrong guy. And….and…." Artha appeared to run out of gusto as he silently fumed atop Beau.

It was only until then that Artha and Moordryd appeared to be aware of the others around them. They took in the shocked faces all around.

"But," Artha suddenly said, rather calmly. "Now that I know, I can tell my father." He looked at Moordryd triumphantly. Moordryd's anger started to flare up again.

"You little…" He started to say.

"Listen up, both of you!" Connor said sternly. "I said listen and look here." Moordryd and Artha grudgingly obeyed. "Now I want both of you to tell me what's going on here, and quickly." Moordryd was the first to speak up.

"It's all his fault! His and Word Paynn's!"

"Now hold on. Are you saying my son and Word have some sort of plan between them?" Connor asked.

"No, yes. Arrgghh!" Moordryd said, frustrated. "Look, he's not your son."

"He's not my son?" Connor said, not expecting that particular answer.

"No, he's not. I am."

Everyone sat on their dragons, for the moment shocked. "…oh?" Connor said hesitantly. Parm wondered whether Moordryd had gone mad. Lance stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Dad?" Came a small voice as Lance recovered.

Connor looked at Lance. "Yes?"

Lance stroked the top of Fracshun's head. "Does this mean Moordryd is my long lost brother?"

Moordryd sighed heavily. "I'm your brother, he's not." He said as he pointed to Artha. "He's not even Artha. And technically, I'm not Moordryd. I mean, he's me and I'm him." Parm looked over at a dazed Kitt and twirled his fingers around his head. Kitt nodded, as confused as ever.

Artha twiddled his fingers and looked about. He looked at them all with a malicious grin spreading across his face. Somehow, Kitt noticed it didn't suit him. "Once again, now that I know…" He said and paused, expecting them to fill in the blanks. Suddenly, he pushed forward Beau's handles, and leaned forward in the saddle expecting him to dash off. Beau merely looked up at him and shook his head. "Scales," Artha muttered.

"Off to tell Word Paynn, were we?" Moordryd remarked. Artha sneered at him, but stayed his place.

"Can someone, please, in plain draconian, tell me what in the Magna Draconis is going on?" Kitt asked, thoroughly flummoxed.

"I think I've got it!" Parm instantly exclaimed.

"You do?" Moordryd asked, both surprised and proud.

"Great." Artha muttered darkly.

"Yes, remember the time when Word Paynn switched your…er…Artha's mind with Beau's with that neuro gear? Well, who's to say he can't do something like that again!"

"I hope you don't mean what I think you mean." Kitt said.

"I think I do!" Parm said brightly, obviously pleased with himself. "Artha's been acting strange all afternoon. I mean, he's been rude, irritating and obnoxious…"

"Hey! I'm…" Artha started to interrupt, then fell silent as he noticed the glares from everyone else. Connor rubbed his chin, absorbing what Parm was saying.

Lance spoke up. "Okay, if you're Artha Penn," Lance said, looking at Moordryd, "if you're really my brother, what did you get me for my eighth birthday?"

Moordryd looked pleased that he knew the answer. "Version 2.1 of the official elite racing VIDD-game." Everyone was shocked and leaned back in their saddles. Decepshun stared at her rider in true amazement.

"Well, uh, see! I was right!" Parm said enthusiastically. Lance's mouth hung open. He looked from Artha to Moordryd, and back again.

"You're really…and you…this is so drac!" He pumped his fist.

"No, no its not!" Parm said. "This means that Moordryd knows that Artha's really the…."

"The Dragon Booster! Right! Decepshun, mag me!" Artha, er, Moordryd yelled. Decepshun widened her eyes in surprise. She then looked up and scowled at her rider.

"Oops." Was all Artha got to say before Decepshun lifted him and threw him to the ground. She then quickly magged her real rider into the saddle, and grinned as she felt the familiar touch on the handles.

"See ya, stable losers! My father should be very glad to know where the black and gold dragon of legend has been hiding!" He cackled, and Decepshun snorted at the stable losers before quickly turning and dashing off.

"Wait, Moordryd!" Artha yelled, still on the ground rubbing Moordryd's knee painfully. Beau wasted no time in magging his true rider.

"He's getting away!" Parm shouted.

"Kitt, after him!" Connor started to call, but lost his footing and fell to the ground.

"Wha…" Kitt said, but nearly fell from Wyldfyr as the ground beneath them pitched violently, worse than it had before. Lance hung onto Frachsun as Parm grasped the edges of his saddle with a tight grip. Artha was barely in Beau's saddle before he too was shaken by the quake. Ahead, Decepshun was thrown to the ground as the shaking increased.

"Daaaaaaaadddddd…" Lance managed to stutter as the ground vibrated. Then, just as quick as it had started, it stopped. Everyone released their grip on the handles and Dceepshun shook her head as she shakily got to her feet.

Moordryd put a hand to Artha's head. "Not again. What was that? Was it…"

"Caused by Deth, yes. Just as the first was." Connor said as he got up from the ground.

"But this was more violent." Parm nearly whimpered as Cyrano looked at him, sharing his same feelings of dread.

"Oh, please. It wasn't that bad." Moordryd dismissed it with a flick of Artha's hand.

"But it was bad enough to cause everyone to fall. What if Deth is coming closer?" Artha retorted in Moordryd's voice.

"Then I suppose you have some work to do." Moordryd laughed. He put his hands on the handles and prepared to go.

"Moordryd, wait. You are in terrible danger." Connor said as he walked towards his son's body.

"No, the stable brat and his dragon are the ones in danger. In danger from Deth and from my father." Moordryd calmly replied. Artha glared at him. Moordryd prepared to dash off once again.

"No." Connor said in such a flat voice that Moordryd waited to hear the rest. He also stood in front of Decepshun. "Deth is after you."

"What?" Moordryd was taken aback.

"Deth senses the gold draconium energy from Beau and from Artha's body, which you now possess. Deth has sworn revenge on the Dragon Booster. He will ignore Beau and head straight for you." Connor fixed Artha's body with a glare. "He will come to kill you."

Moordryd looked at Connor and leaned forward. "But…but…I'm not the Dragon Booster."

"No. But you have his body. That is what counts at the moment."

Decepshun looked worriedly at her rider. Moordryd opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.

Connor continued. "If you rush back to your father now, Deth will catch you before you reach his citadel. That tremor was strong. He is very close now. We've already wasted too much time."

"Magna Draconis, what are we going to do?" Parm said. "Deth is after Moordryd to kill the Dragon Booster, but will kill the wrong person, than Artha will be stuck in Moordryd's body forever. Oh dear…"

Artha's head snapped up as he heard Parms' words. "Trapped in Moordryd's body forever?" He nearly jumped at the horrific shock of it all. "We have to switch back."

"But how? How did you switch in the first place? If we can complete the transformation before Deth arrives, then…"

"There won't be enough time." Connor cautioned. "He's very close as it is." Connor turned to Moordryd. "How did Word switch your minds?"

Moordryd pressed his lips together firmly. "Why should I tell you?"

"So you can switch. Do you actually want Deth to kill you?" Kitt nearly shouted at him.

"Tell us how you switched." Connor said.

Moordryd could see everyone lean forward in earnest. Even Decepshun looked up at him curiously. "Well…" Moordryd started. What harm was there in telling them now? He just wanted to be back in his own body again. "My…my father created another gear, similar to the neuro gear he made once before."

"But how were your minds switched if Artha wasn't connected to you somehow?" Parm inquired, interested.

"I don't know. My father had a sample of Penn's sweat…"

"What?"

Moordryd ignored Artha and continued. "…and he used it to switch…look, I have no idea how he did it, okay?" Moordryd said, both frustrated and annoyed.

Connor sighed. Parm suddenly gave a squeal of delight. Lance jumped and everyone turned to look at him as he punched data into his calculator gizmo. "Did Word put some sort of gear on you? On your head?"

"Well, duh."

"According to my calculations and intricate research in the study of the…er…" Parm looked up slightly from his data. "Er…one does not technically need to connect both recipients with some sort of wiring. One could simply, well, over a long distance use DNA to indicate the…"

"So what you're babbling about is that its possible for Word to put this weird gear on Moordryd's head…" Kitt started.

"…then input the DNA into some sort of super computer, and BAM! If the energy current…well…it would work." Parm finished with glamour.

"Ah, so you need me in order to switch back. I see." Artha said, rubbing Moordryd's chin. "Running back to dear old Word wouldn't help you any, now would it?" Artha said slyly.

"What?"

"If Word put the gear on you, it wouldn't transfer our minds. He doesn't have your DNA all added in the machine. He has mine."

Moordryd considered Artha's logic. It was true. His father only had Penn's DNA in the computer. He could only transfer minds with Penn's body and who ever had on the gear. If he, in Penn's body, were to put on the gear, it would do nothing. "I need…" Moordryd started, realizing he did in fact need the stable brats cooperation to change back. "Scales." Artha's smile of achievement was short lived as another huge tremor ran through the ground, this time obviously much closer.

As the shaking stopped, they all looked at each other. "Deth is already too close. Moordryd," Connor said as Moordryd looked at him, "and there isn't time enough to run back to Word's citadel, activate the computer and switch you."

"Sooo…"

"We stay with my first plan."

"Oh, okay. What? Wait a minute! I am not leading Deth down to Old City."

"Scared?" Lance teased.

"No." Moordryd glared down at him.

"Well, what's your bright idea then? Deth is after you. Whatcha gonna do now?" Kitt said, trying to get things rolling. Time was running out.

"I'll…" Moordryd sighed. His eye twitched before he finally complied. "…fine. I'll lead Deth down to Old City where…you…can take of him." He said to Connor, still unsure as to how Connor Penn was actually going to defeat him. "But in the meantime, the Penn brat tries to switch me as soon as possible. Just sneak into my father's citadel and activate the computer."

"Right." Artha said, his confidence growing now that he knew they had a plan.

"Where's the gear?"

"The…gear. Oh, um…"

"You obviously had it last, and you've obviously taken it off. Did you leave it at my father's citadel?" Moordryd asked hurriedly.

Artha hesitated as he thought. "No."

"Then where is it?" Kitt asked, getting worried.

"…uh," Artha said as everyone looked at him, "Cain has it…"

Moordryd looked slightly disbelieving at first. Artha merely grinned sheepishly back. "Cain? Why in the Magna Draconis does Cain have it?"

"I gave it to him."

Everyone stared incredulity at Moordryd's body. "WHY?" Moordryd nearly yelled, causing several people to glance over. Those particular people then stared at the unusual sight. Moordryd on Penn's dragon and Artha on Moordryd's. Moordryd noticed their silent stares and sneered at them. They slowly left, wondering why Artha Penn, of all people, sneered at them. "Never mind." Moordryd said as he turned back to Artha. Artha frowned. "Just get it from him, and change me back!"

"Fine, he just went back to your compound. I'll get it from him there, and then head to Word's citadel." Artha said.

Moordryd slowly replied, "Cain shouldn't be at the compound, he has scouting to do."

"I told him to clean a stable."

"…oh…" Moordryd said hesitantly.

Connor looked at each of them, the laid out the instructions. "The plan: Artha takes Parm along with him to retrieve the gear and activate it. He'll need you to start the computer." Connor said as Pram looked surprised. Parm quickly nodded with resolve as he understood. "Moordryd will lead Deth into Old City to avoid terrible destruction here. Kitt will go with him and help." Kitt brightened when she realized she wouldn't be sitting on the sidelines. "I'll meet you in the Old City. Hopefully by that time you'll have been switched." Conno finished. "I'm trusting you all to do a quick, efficient job."

"What will I do?" Lance enthusiastically inquired from the back.

Connor looked past all the dragons and young heroes at his youngest son. "Lance, you…"

"Can come with me and Parm." Artha jutted in. Connor looked at him and opened his mouth. "Lance is small, and we may need him to sneak into Word's citadel. Word knows what happened. We may not be able to do it alone." Artha explained his hurried logic. Connor did not look convinced.

"Dad." Lance said as he moved Frachsun closer. "I've done dangerous things before. I've been in the Shadow Track, with the Prophets and a whole bunch of other dangerous things. I can do this. Please let me help. I don't want to sit here and do nothing."

Connor sighed and rubbed his forehead. Finally he spoke, "we don't have much time. We should do this right now. Deth is probably in Work Town somewhere at the moment. All of you, be careful…especially you Lance." Connor smiled down at Lance. "Listen to your brother." Lance's smile made the day seem brighter than any day before.

They all nodded seriously at Connor's words. Kitt looked over at Artha's body, and thought she saw a surprised smirk. "Wait." She said. Everyone groaned.

"We don't have time…" Par said.

"How do we know Moordryd isn't going to call up Word or the like? I mean, if Word knew…" Everyone realized her complete logic. Moordryd attempted to look harmless.

"Don't worry," Artha smirked, "I have an idea." He pushed forward Beau's handles until he was close enough to lean towards Moordryd and speak in a whisper.

"Yeah? What's your big idea?" Moordryd smirked.

Artha leaned close and uttered two, soft words, "Shadow Booster." Moordryd raised Artha's eyebrows in alarm. Artha leaned back, satisfied.

"Fine. I won't tell." Moordryd muttered as Artha's point was taken.

"See? Told you I had an idea." Artha stretched his arms.

"But what did you…" Kitt started.

"Sorry, but it might not hold if I tell you." Artha said apologetically.

"You're scaling right it won't." Moordryd grimaced. Penn knew he was the Shadow Booster, and just threatened to spill his secret and ruin his life. He couldn't let that happen.

"Well," Connor said, "if that's settled, I think we'd better hurry. Moordryd, transform into the Dragon Booster in a secluded place. And quickly."


	7. A Plan in Action

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long for me to update this. It's been around five or six months or so. :P Anyway, here it is. R&R!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dragon Booster.

* * *

_Chapter 7: A Plan in Action_

"What? You mean actually transform?" Moordry said, stunned. He was barely ahead of Artha's shock.

"WHAT? Moordryd can't be the Dragon Booster, he…he…."

"Listen. There is a good reason for this," Connor said.

"I hope so," Artha muttered and crossed his arms.

"Deth will be following your body Artha, and people will start to wonder why this huge warrior is hunting you down. It will make more sense if they see him hunting the Dragon Booster, right?" Connor said to everyone, and looked at Moordryd's body, sitting atop Beau. Artha fumed silently in Moordryd's body. "And, the suit will protect Moordryd, will protect _your_ body, if Deth manages to hit him with his mag energy."

"Well, fine…" Artha agreed, not wanting his body to get hurt or anything. He did have to use it later.

"I might get hit?" Moordryd said incredulously.

"Only if you're too slow," Lance smirked. Moordryd glared at him.

"Enough of this. You all know what you have to do. Kitt, make sure Moordryd doesn't do anything as the Dragon Booster that would hurt the Dragon Booster's reputation." Kitt nodded seriously at Connor's words. "Artha, get the gear, and somehow get into Word's citadel. Parm, do you really think you can make the calculations and…"

"Of course, why, I think I nearly got…"

"Good." Connor interrupted what promised to be another boring speech from Parm. Parm sulked. "Go, now." They all nodded, even Moordryd did, rather dully. They turned their dragons and prepared to race off. "What are you doing?"

They all stopped when they heard Connor. "What?" Artha asked.

"You two can't take each other's dragons." Connor said as if it were too obvious. Moordryd and Artha looked at each other. They were on their own dragons. But Moordryd had to transform as the Dragon Booster and couldn't take Decepshun. Similarly, Artha couldn't take Beau down to the Dragon Eye compound. They would go nuts.

"Well then, get off of my dragon," Moordryd smirked.

Artha blinked. "What? Your dragon?" Connor shook his head at Artha. Artha took a deep breath to control his anger at Moordryd, then dismounted. Moordryd dismounted as well, rather pleased with himself. Beau looked at Moordryd's moping body and allowed Artha's body to mount.

"Well, stable brat, I'll see you later. I guess I'll just have to show Dragon City how a real hero acts." Moordryd said. Though everyone knew that could never happen, it irritated Artha to no end. Moordryd got as close as he ever would to giggling, then sped off on Beau. Kitt rolled her eyes, then quickly followed.

Artha turned to his father. "Moordryd…he…and Beau…and ugh!" Artha broke off fuming and climbed onto Decepshun's saddle. "Moordryd's gonna make the 'Dragon Booster' look like a total idiot!"

"Now how do you know that?" Parm asked from Cyrano's saddle as he walked up to stand beside Decepshun.

"What else is he going to do?" Artha asked in return.

Lance rested his chin in his hand as he leaned on his elbow. "Then you should make Moordryd look like an idiot."

"…I could!" Artha mused, rubbing Moordryd's chin.

Connor addressed the pondering Moordryd, "Artha, you can't make anyone suspicious. It'll just be more difficult to get the gear from Cain."

"I won't act that much different than Moordryd usually does," Artha said. "Just…I'll make him act dorky enough, but not so much that people get suspicious. If I did make them suspicious, that would just defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?" Artha glanced at them all. Lance couldn't stop giggling, Parm was smiling wide with anticipation and Connor was slowly shaking his head.

"Moordryd's gonna kill you when he finds out," Lance said, finally stifling his laughter.

Artha shrugged Moordryd's shoulders. "He started it."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Parm asked, actually excited.

"Nothing," Artha chuckled. Decepshun rolled her eyes and grimaced slightly as Artha took hold of the handles. He may look like Moordryd, but he sure wasn't going to act like him. She would just have to make sure he didn't act like too much of a fool, for Moordryd's sake.

Connor looked at them all, then nodded his head. "Be careful," he said, "Parm, Lance, don't get close to the Dragon Eye compound."

Lance groaned, "you mean we won't see, 'Moordryd,' act like an idiot? Scales," he muttered.

"Of course not," Parm said, "the Dragon Eyes have scouts all over the city. If any one of them sees us with 'Moordryd,' our cover may be blown. We'll have to leave Artha soon and just meet him at Word's citadel." Lance crossed his arms and Connor nodded.

"Right," Artha said, "I can…I can get the gear by myself."

They all raced off, Moordryd's body and Decepshun taking a different street than Parm and Lance. Connor sighed and walked back to the stables. He had to get Tyrannis Pax ready, just in case.

----------

Beau screeched to a halt in a nearby alleyway. Kitt stopped close by on Wyldfyr and folded her arms. Artha's hand brought out the amulet and held it close to his face.

"Put it in already," she snapped. Moordryd turned Artha's head an looked at her blandly.

"I will, I will," Moordryd said and looked cynically at Kitt. "Don't rush me. I mean, being the hero of the…."

"Ugh. I've heard Artha say it all before." Kitt sighed. Moordryd smirked and held up the amulet.

"What does he say?"

"Release the dragon," Kitt said, waiting to see whether he would actually transform.

"Release that dragon…thing!" Moordryd yelled and placed the amulet into the gauntlet. And as Kitt watched, the same transformation sequence that had taken place before numerous amounts of time, happened again. She had to smirk as Moordryd opened Artha's mouth in mute astonishment.

This wasn't at all like what happened when he turned into the Shadow Booster, Moordryd reflected. This was much more…enjoyable in a sense.

Soon, the bright gold glow faded, leaving the Dragon Booster sitting upon the Dragon of Legend. Beau smiled. So far, things were going according to plan.

"Look at me," Moordryd said. "I'm intoxicatingly perfect."

Kitt bit down her laughter. "Let's just get you down to the Old City. Feel like facing Deth?"

"No."

"Then hurry. And don't stop to talk to anyone."

"What? And make the Dragon Booster seem like a rude hero?" Moordryd asked as Beau and Wyldfyr left the alley. "The Dragon Booster is supposed to be friendly."

Kitt shook her head. "Not this time he isn't. Just race through the streets. People will think you're busy and…hey!"

She glared as Moordryd started waving to random people, acting so friendly it was almost creepy. Wyldfyr rushed to his side and she grabbed his arm, hissing. "Get to the Old City. Stay longer and Deth…"

"He's not here yet. And I won't get another chance like this, will I?" Moordryd asked. Kitt pulled his arm.

"Come. Now."

"No," Moordryd said, yanking his arm back. This went on until two young girls walked up, cradling dolls in their arms as their parents stood not far away.

"It's the Dragon Booster," the first whispered to the other. The other pulled on her pigtails, gazing lovingly at the handsome hero.

Kitt yanked his arm, and the Dagon Booster jerked his arm back to him. "Not yet." He said.

"Yes, now," Kitt said, pulling on his arm again. "Before…"

"Excuse me," the first girl asked in a small voice. "What are you doing to the Dragon Booster?"

Kitt and the 'Dragon Booster,' stopped. The Dragon Booster snapped a cheesy smile at the two girls, who giggled. "The Dragon Booster just has to go somewhere," Kitt said.

"No he doesn't," Moordryd said as a crowd of people started to gather around them, eager to talk to the Dragon Booster who didn't have to go anywhere.

"Yes, he does," Kitt snapped back. The people started to yell greetings and questions to the Dragon Booster. Moordryd was much too happy to answer.

"No, I'm not married," he answered one. "No, I'm single. What? You want to be my girlfriend? You too?" Kitt sighed, rolling her eyes and looked around anxiously as the friendly fans crowded in. They had to get going.

"Well, maybe. What? Oh, no. The Shadow Booster scares me. Why once, after we fought and he won, I soiled my suit and…."

Kitt yanked on his arm and nearly growled to Beau. "Let's go." Beau grunted, to indicate he was trying to leave, but the amount of people swarming around them didn't give him much room. Kitt nearly sighed in relief as she head a familiar voice.

"Dragon Booster!" Captain Faier called as he dismounted his dragon and pushed through the crowd to him. Moordryd looked up from where he was signing autographs.

"Captain Faier," Kitt said, hoping he would help. "The Dragon Booster…"

"If you have the time," Faier said as he came closer.

"What?" Moordryd asked. Beau growled softly at the people in front, trying to make them move. They tried to pet him instead.

"Could you sign this, for my niece?" Captain Faier asked and held out a hat with a picture of the Dragon Booster on it. Kitt stared at him, not believing her ears.

"Sure," Moordryd said, taking it.

"And sign this!" One of the young girls asked, holding out her doll to him. Moordryd took it when he was finished signing the hat.

"Oh, I...have this doll." He said, looking at it.

The girl looked at him. "Really?" People glanced at each other.

"Yep. I, the Dragon Booster, play with a doll who looks exactly like this one. I sleep with it too, otherwise I get scared during the night, and…" Moordryd leaned forward to whisper rather loudly. "…sometimes, the darkness scares me so much that I wet the bed." The girls nodded slowly at his somber voice.

"The Dragon Booster has to go somewhere, to save the city!" Kitt said loudly, interrupting Moordryd.

"You really sleep with a doll?" Asked Alan from Dragon City News. Kitt sighed.

Moordryd smiled into the camera, with thousands of people watching. "Yes I do."

More than several people chuckled, while Kitt started to yell at them. "The Dragon Booster has to go somewhere, right now. Move!"

"Dragon Booster," Captain Faier asked as he signaled for the people to move. They did so, grudgingly. "Do you know of the strange…uh, elite racer?" Faier asked, cautious about calling the giant mag warrior he had received word about from his fellow security officers an elite racer. But of course, that was nearly the only thing he could think to call it.

"Deth?"

"How close is he?" Kitt asked at the same time Moordryd asked a simple question which most people took the wrong way, murmuring to each other that death was coming for them all. Several gasped and others, who had felt the tremors, either crowded closer to the Dragon Booster or fled to their homes.

"How close?" Faier said, "Hmm, well, last my men had…."

Advertisements and signs shook and flickered as another huge tremor ran through the city. People immediately fled from the open streets and disappeared into buildings. Beau, Wyldfyr and every other dragon had trouble keeping their feet. Kitt clenched her teeth as she held onto the handles, the violent shaking nearly tearing them from her grip.

"Close, very close now!" Faier said, nearly stating the obvious. "Have you got a plan?"

Moordryd didn't answer Faier, but instead looked down the street. Kitt followed his gaze, and from around a corner, she could see the growing glow of black mag energy. Huge pounding feet shook the street as Syrrox lumbered closer.

"I uh…I…" Moordryd stuttered as the full gravity of the situation finally hit him. He shook his head, gaining his senses, and relieving a distressed Kitt, who had wondered whether she would have to shake him to get him moving.

"Where are you leading him?" She called over to Moordryd, to get his mind rolling.

Moordryd turned to look at her and responded, "Old City." Kitt barely heard him as Syrrox roared at the same time, drowning out his voice.

Beau shook his head and roared back, then turned and ran the opposite way from which the other roar had come from. Kitt turned Wyldfyr to follow, and looked back. Her breath caught in her throat.

Syrrox had turned the corner, and stood as still as death, baring his rows of deadly teeth at them in a grisly smile. Kitt's eyes then moved to above his head, where a dark shape sat. The helmet hid his entire face, and was designed to look like the face of his dragon. Each face, both Deth's and his dragon Syrrox's, had protruding horns and ridged scales, and night black hide. Kitt almost found Syrrox beautiful, the way the scales never stayed the same colour. Always an underlining of the deepest black, when Syrrox turned his head, they would flash to a bottomless blue, a sinister purple and a murky green. Syrrox bellowed again, and Kitt thrust forward her handles, just then remembering Connor's words to not get in the way. Oh well, she had to take care of Moordryd.

Wyldfyr raced after Beau. "No, go right!" Kitt yelled.

Moordryd glanced behind quickly, before turning Beau down the right street, instead of the left he had been aiming for. Kitt sighed. It wouldn't have done for him to get blocked on that street, which was under construction.

Behind them, Deth looked forward with a wicked smile. He had found the Dragon Booster. Weak, pitiful and simple. His laugh was like the fingers of the dead, scratching against their coffins. He would unleash a wave of death, to which he was aptly named for. Syrrox charged forward, and with each reaching stride, he gained on the Dragon Booster.

----------

"I don't scaling believe it!"

Artha ground his teeth as he watched Dragon City News. Only the sudden image of the 'Dragon Booster,' could make him pause for just a moment, before he reached the Dragon Eye compound.

"_Yep. I, the Dragon Booster, play with a doll who looks exactly like this one. I sleep with it too, otherwise I get scared during the night, and…sometimes, the darkness scares me so much that I wet the bed."_

"_The Dragon Booster has to go somewhere, to save the city!" _

"_You really sleep with a doll?"_

"_Yes I do."_

"_You heard it here, Dragon City. Startling new revelations from the Dragon Booster himself! Has our beloved hero gone soft?"_

Artha groaned aloud as he watched the new, impromptu interview with the one and only Dragon Booster. "Thank you Kitt! Way to stop him." Decepshun chuckled. "Come on, it's not that funny." He said to Decepshun. Decepshun looked up at him and grinned, indicating that she did in fact find it funny.

"You aren't watching Dragon City News right now, are you?" Artha heard Parmon say. He looked down to his, or rather, Moordryd's VIDDscreen.

"Yes. He…I don't believe it. Now the whole city thinks the Dragon Booster sleeps with dolls and…and…"

Lance laughed from beside Parm. "It's not that funny!" Artha said loudly.

"Well you're sure getting your scales in a bunch about it," Parm said.

"And now," Lance cut in, still laughing, "go to the compound and…"

Artha grinned and nearly forgot what Moordryd had said, so keen he was on what he was about to do. "Give him a dose of his own medicine."

Parm sighed as Lance snickered beside him. "But you'd be….hurry! Get the device…Deth…running, chasing actually…on the news and…oh, just go!" Parm nearly shouted.

Decepshun raced forward. No way was she going to let Moordryd get hurt by Deth. That pleasure belong to the stable brat. She raced along to the compound as Artha desperately grabbed for the handles to avoid falling off.

Decepshun led the way down curving streets and through the black part of the city, darkly decorated by the resident crew. Very soon, yet not soon enough for Artha since he had felt another tremor, the compound rose into view.

Decepshun raced forward, not slowing. Artha breathed deeply and told himself to be ready as they approached the entrance, where two sentries stood, leaning dangerously on their blocking-staffs. Artha raced in with Decepshun without looking at them. And they ignored him as well. Without a second glance in his direction, they continued talking about dragon and cookies, or something to that extent; Artha only caught fragmented pieces of their conversation.

Decepshun ran into the compound, stopped before a certain, small building and snorted at Artha on her back, telling him that it was time to find Cain. Artha vaulted neatly off, and brushed himself off. "Well Decepshun," he said, patting her on the nose. She pulled away. "I'll see you in a bit. It's time for a little fun." Artha sniggered and strode over to the building while Decepshun glared at his back.

He opened the door and cautiously stepped inside, immediately noting the relative dirtiness of the corridor he found himself in. Apparently Dragon Eyes weren't the cleanliest of crews. He walked down it slowly, ears alert for any sounds. Upon reaching the end, he found himself in yet another corridor, this time branching off to his left and right, with many doors down either one, all closed. Artha paused, trying to decide which way to go next.

As he was pondering his dilemma, he heard voices come from the left. "Well," he said in Moordryd's voice. "I guess I'll go that way."

The voices became louder as he neared the source, which happened to be behind a closed door near the end of the corridor. Artha took a deep breath, staring hard at the door as he heard the voices talk.

"I so did not blow it up on purpose."

"You do everything on purpose."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yuh-uh. I mean, how could you just 'accidentally' blow up the building?"

"It didn't 'blow up'."

"Still, it practically burned down. And I can't believe you just had to clean a stable for that."

"Well Cain made me clean two. He said Moordryd changed his mind about just cleaning one."

Artha smirked and stifled his laughter. There were two voices, and one was obviously Vizz while the other sounded like Rancyyd. So he _did_ clean a stable. And Cain had shirked out of cleaning one, dumping that chore on Vizz. He would have to punish him for that. Artha waited till he wouldn't be in danger of bursting out laughing before going in, walking with a swagger he had seen Moordryd walk with.

"You still stink too, you know that? You should…hey Moordryd." Rancyyd greeted him with a small smile while Vizz grinned sheepishly at him, probably expecting some sort of tirade about burning down a building or so, Artha thought. They were sitting on a couch, or rather, lounging would be a better way to describe it. Artha looked around the room and except for them, it was empty. He had to find Cain.

"Uh, hey. Listen," Artha started in a most Moordryd-like manner.

"I didn't do it on purpose…it wasn't even my fault!" Vizz protested, interrupting Artha.

"I uh, I'm sure it wasn't. Now whe…"

"I mean, the gear exploding wasn't because I did something exactly wrong with it…Blarre was distracting me." Vizz continued, trying to put the blame on someone else.

Rancyyd sniggered. "Distracting you? How?"

Vizz glared at him. "Nothing. She was just talking and…"

"Where the scales is Cain?" Artha shouted. He was pleased when Rancyyd and Vizz jumped.

"I think he's at the stables." Rancyyd said helpfully.

Artha sighed. "Thank you."

Rancyyd and Vizz looked at each other conspicuously. "Um, you're welcome?" Rancyyd nearly asked in reply. Vizz grinned.

"Wow, Moordryd. When did you get manners?"

"Well, I…" Artha gulped. "I…I didn't. Now just…I have to go talk to Cain." Vizz's grin widened. Artha snarled at him, like he knew Moordryd usually did whenever he saw someone he disliked. Then an idea popped into his mind. "Well now. Rancyyd, Vizz. I have to go. Please excuse me, and I'm dreadfully sorry for interrupting you two. Oh I hope we meet again soon and have another delightful conversation. Toodles." Artha flipped his hand in their direction, then sauntered off. Half way back to the door, he decided to turn his saunter in a skip. So he skipped the rest of the way to the door, waving his hands around.

When he left, Rancyyd and Vizz closed their open mouths and looked at each other. "Well…do you think he was being sarcastic?"

"Moordryd doesn't skip." Vizz replied. "He…"

"I think maybe he's gone loco." Racncyyd laughed. "Wait till the others hear about this…"

Outside, Artha leaned against the door, and decided he deserved a little victory dance. Done dancing, he laughed to himself and started to walk off. "Wait," he said to himself after a few steps. "Where are the stables?"

----------

Moordryd turned Beau down another street, ducking an dodging mag-blasts from Deth, who was quickly brining up the rear. So maybe stalling and playing as the Dragon booster hadn't been the best of ideas. He looked to his right where Kitt was racing alongside. "What now?"

She looked across at him. "Keep going," she said as if it were too obvious. Moordryd sighed. A plan would've been nice. Any plan at all.

He looked behind and ducked just in time as another mag-blast shot through the air and barely missed his head. Syrrox roared loudly, in fury and with the joy of a chase. Deth glared at them, and soon held two more mag-blasts in his hands. Moordryd groaned and held on as Beau and Wyldfyr suddenly swung around a tight bend and ran down another street, which soon sloped down into lower Mid City.

Kitt looked behind and grinned at him. "I think he'll be stuck for a while."

Moordryd dared another glance behind, and noticed that two large buildings sheltered the narrow street they had just raced down. Syrrox lumbered into view, and thrust his head in between the buildings. But he stopped there. His hindquarters just wouldn't fit through like the rest of his body. He roared at them.

Moordryd laughed. "His butt's too big."

Kitt shook her head. "You sound like Lance." Moordryd frowned, wondering what she meant by that.

Behind them, Deth stood up on Syrrox. He held out his hands to either side, and easily mag-pushed the buildings, creating gaping holes, which allowed for Syrrox to slide through. The chase was on again.

----------

Artha kept on walking, even after several buildings, quite a few dead end passages and large, open areas that clearly housed no stables. He didn't remember the Dragon Eye compound being this big, or quite this complicated. He had found Decepshun nosing about the compound then as he walked outside of on uneventful building. She grinned at him, as if saying she'd knew he'd get lost. And now he was following her, after telling her Cain was supposedly at the stables.

Artha clenched and unclenched his hands repeatedly. This was taking too long. He had managed to catch a glimpse of a VIDDscreen in one of the buildings that someone had left on. All news stations seemed to be fixed on the chase scene behind the large dragon and the Dragon Booster. Artha nearly yelled at it then as he noticed Kitt right beside Moordryd. But then he realized that might be for the best. At least someone was keeping an eye on Moordryd.

Then he almost bumped into Decepshun as she stopped. She snorted at him, and Moordryd walked around her to see rows upon rows of stables, housing black dragons and a few greens. Ahead, sitting near a stable on a bench, chatting animatedly with Swayy while Coershun listened in, stretched in the stable entrance, was Cain. Artha sighed in relief.

Decepshun and he walked right up to them. Cain looked at him and stood up. "See? Since you wanted me to uh…clean a stable, there. There's one Vizz did, and I did that one." Cain coughed, and then glared at Swayy as she started to snicker. Apparently, she too knew that Cain had forced Vizz to clean both. "So uh, that's done."

"Yes, I guess it is. Sadly for you, I know what you made Vizz do." Artha said, and smiled as Cain's eyes opened wide.

"How?" He started, then glared harder than before at Swayy.

She stopped snickering and threw her hands up into the air. "I didn't tell him."

"I overheard Vizz and Rancyyd talking. Cain, Cain, Cain," Artha said shaking his head. "What am I going to do…" Decephun pushed him from behind and snorted at the back of his head, reminding him why they had come here. Artha would've fumed then if he had the time. He wasn't going to be able to tease Cain after all. "Oh wait, Cain, where's the gear you have?"

Cain looked up, and closed his mouth from what excuses he had about to give Moordryd. "What? What gear?"

"The gear. The gear you took when we were at Word's cit…my father's citadel. Remember?"

Cain looked very thoughtful for a moment, an expression which Artha found didn't quite suit him. "Hmm, I…it's in Decepshun's stable." He said, sitting back down.

Artha stood there, not knowing where Decepshun's stable was. After a few seconds of what Artha would begin to describe as an awkward silence, he snapped at Cain, "then get it for me."

Cain peered curiously at him, and huffed, "fine." He sulkily got up and walked to a stable next to Coershun's, where he disappeared inside and soon came back out, holding the grey head gear. Artha sighed in deep relief.

"Great," he said and snatched it from Cain's hands as soon as he was close enough. He jumped onto Decepshun's saddle and quickly jerked the handles forward, an action which was not needed, as Decephun bounded forward of her own accord. He left Cain and Swayy behind in a plume of dust as he headed to Word's citadel, where Parm and Lance should be waiting with a plan to get in.

----------

One of Word's wraiths slowed to a stop, and eagerly watched Deth run through the streets as Syrrox let out bellowing roars. The Dragon Booster and his friend ran on ahead of it, urging their dragons to run to the limit. It wasn't easy outrunning a dragon like Syrrox. The camera on the wraith recorded this, where Word watched back in his citadel.

Word frowned. There was Deth, chasing the Dragon Booster. But the other wraith he had sent out had not yet found Artha Penn's body, which his son was currently inhabiting. Odd. His wraiths had looked all over the city, and still no sign. No matter. Word would have to rest some faith on Moordryd that he wouldn't get in the way of this Deth and just find out the Dragon Booster's identity from Artha Penn's friends. The only other thing that was bothering him? The other wraith hadn't found his son's body either, which meant Artha Penn could have already warned his friends about his plan…Word groaned aloud and rubbed his head. Moordryd would simply have to make do, whatever happened.

Word stood. He couldn't be completely sure Deth would kill the Dragon Booster, considering that Word had no doubt Deth was being led into a trap. Why else would this hero run? Word scowled. He would have to take things into his own hands.

----------

Connor watched a VIDDscreen from down in his cave, staff in hand and Dragon Priest armor on. His only relief was that he had not yet sensed Armeggeddon's presence. Perhaps that warrior was content to see how things would play out. Mortis sighed and continued watching the screen as Kitt and Moordryd ran from Deth, easily leading him. Already in Lower Mid City, perhaps they would be able to lead him down into Down City, where Mortis would probably have to surprise them there instead of the Old City. Deth was certainly powerful, and much too aggressive. Unchecked aggression could lead to disastrous results.

Suddenly, Mortis' staff slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. His hands flew up to his head, where it seemed to explode in pain. Visions ran through his mind, not of Armeggeddon, but of Drakkus. Drakkus' dragon roared with supremacy as Mortis' visions faded away. He forced his teeth to unclench, and he blearily opened his eyes. In a way, it almost disturbed him how much he was getting used to these visions.

He lowered his hands and bent down to pick up his staff. So Drakkus intended to do something. Already Mortis could sense him approaching. Not to him, but Deth; and the Dragon Booster. Mortis walked though his cave, and slammed his staff onto a specific spot on the ground hard. A cavern wall before him opened, and Tyrannis Pax stepped out, ready for battle.


	8. Caught

**A/N:** Ha, only four (or so) months between chapters this time. Better than last time anyway. Gah, I'm so slow at writing. Hope you enjoy this one, and remember, reviews are welcome, especially critistism! And thanks for all those who did review!

And please give me a better chapter title, mine stinks. :P

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dragon Booster. But Deth I thought of myself.

* * *

_Caught_

Parm looked at the citadel, standing strong and opposing. Thin rivers of light found a way past all the drag ways and elegant buildings of Sun City to bath the citadel in a daunting fashion. The contrast of light and shadows stood bleak and sharp on the citadel, making it look even more intimidating than it already was to Parmon Sean. For those who knew nothing of what really lay inside, they would call the citadel beautiful and picturesque. But to those, like the two Penn Racing crew members who waited close by, the citadel screamed dragon-human war.

Parm gulped and once again looked through his binocs to peer intensely at the citadel entrance. Lance looked around him and the building they were taking refuge behind. Their dragons waited somewhat patiently further behind, well, as patient as a dragon could be when they knew their friends were being chased and hunted down by a mad warrior from the past. Fracshun's soft chatter of nervous concern and fear heightened Lance's own worries. Lance looked up at Parm and shook Parm's shirt, afraid to make any other noise and jeopardize their only hope of getting in the citadel.

Parm took his eyes almost reluctantly away from the citadel, and looked down to Lance. "What?" He whispered quietly.

Lance glanced to the citadel, and at one of many wraiths who now stood guard, oblivious to the two and their dragons. "Artha's not here yet."

Parm's voice rose slightly in exasperation of reprimanding Lance yet again. "No, Lance. We don't go in until Artha's here."

"But he's not calling us." Lance whispered back. Parm sighed, wishing they had Moordryd's wrist-comm number, or that Artha and Moordryd had switched wrist-comms at the beginning, so that Artha would have his wrist-comm instead of Moordryd's. Parm felt like massaging his temples, on the off chance that that would actually help take the stress and worry away.

"We don't know whether he found the gear yet. He could take a long time doing that. We should get the computer ready for him when he comes…"

"Lance, sshh!" Parm hushed the younger, and Lance clamped his mouth shut. He had grown excited and determined as he talked, which showed in his voice level. Parm and he glanced to the wraiths, who didn't seem to have heard anything.

After he breathed out a sigh of relief, Parm turned to Lance. "You know we need Artha's help! We need Moordryd's body to get rid of Word, who's probably in there right now!"

"But…"

"We need to wait for him."

"But what if Word isn't there?"

"Lance! We don't know that! And what if we go in, and find him there? That would be disastrous! We could ruin the whole plan!"

"Well," Lance paused. "You wouldn't be that scale scraping stupid to get caught. Would you?"

"Lance…of course not!" Parm retorted. If he did go in, he would never be clumsy enough to get caught, especially not in a situation as critical as this.

Lance held a finger to his lips and quietly shushed Parm, who's voice had risen. Parm glowered at Lance.

"Well, if we won't get caught, we should go in and get ready. Like find out where the computer actually is. What if we have to switch Artha very, very quickly? We need to be…to be prepared."

"I suppose, but we can't get in, Lance. Look how many wraiths there are."

"Did I say I didn't have a plan?" Lance smirked at Parm.

"No, you didn't…wait, you…"

"Have a plan." Lance finished for Parm. Parm watched as Lance skittered away, wondering what in the Magna Draconis he was going to do. Parm looked back to the citadel, and to the watching wraiths. He gulped, and prepared himself for what would come.

----------

"Why don't you drive like you race?" Kitt shouted to Moordryd.

The current Dragon Booster turned his head and looked at her from behind a darkened visor. "I am!" His teeth were clenched and his voice was harsh, as were the usual habits of Moordryd Paynn.

"No you're not! I could easily run ahead and leave you both!"

"Could not!" Moordryd thrust forward the controllers and quickly twisted them to the left to avoid an abandoned wagon.

Kitt sighed. Did she really have to provoke Moordryd just to make him go faster? Wasn't Deth enough? As he reappeared from the other side of the wagon, Beau gave her a slight smile, almost as if to say he was sorry for not picking up the pace himself. Moordryd looked over at her, then huffed. "I don't even need a stable-brat to help me. I should just leave you." He sneered at her.

Kitt frowned at him. "Then why don't you?" She said in frustration, instantly wishing she could take it back. What if Moordryd did try to leave her?

"I would, trust me. But this stupid dragon!" Moordryd yelled down at Beau, controllers pushed as far forward as they would go. Beau flashed them a grin and kept pace with Wyldfyr.

Kitt chuckled at Beau and at Moordryd's aggravation. "Well you don't have to keep the handles that far forward. Don't drain Beau's energy. Deth has fallen behind…a lot."

As Kitt said the last bit in surprise, Moordryd whipped his head around to look behind. The street was empty. "Where is he?" Moordryd demanded.

Kitt peered behind them. "I don't know. Maybe he got stuck between some more buildings."

Moordryd paused as they continued the run to the Old City. "Should we stop and wait for him?"

Kitt shook her head quickly, only glancing at him swiftly before turning back again. "Deth can sense the gold draconium. He'll follow us even if he can't see us." Moordyd appeared relieved that they wouldn't have to wait for the warrior.

Kitt turned her attention back to the empty street ahead, and focused on allowing Wyldfyr to run as fast as she could without unnecessarily wasting her energy. Kitt grimaced. It was almost worse when Deth wasn't right behind them. Kitt had no idea where he was right now. What if he suddenly jumped in front of them? Or if he jumped down from a drag way above? Or…

A huge crash announced Deth's presence, thankfully, still behind them. As soon as the noise had sounded, Syrrox leapt unexpectedly into the street. Kitt's heart jumped into her throat as the sudden emergence surprised her. But what really frightened her was the abrupt, high shriek that seemed rather close. Had Deth hurt someone? But that shriek was much _too_ close…

Realizing where the shriek had come form, Kitt looked to her side at Moordryd, who was just closing his mouth. Beau and Wyldfyr appeared just as surprised as Kitt. Beau chuckled.

"Oh, er I mean…run, Kitt!" He said in a very manly voice.

Kitt would've laughed had Syrrox not just roared and sent chills up her spine.

----------

Decepshun's strides were long and quick, like the fluid motion of a viper, striking forward, then back, too quick for the eye to catch. Artha leaned forward as they rushed through the streets of Down City, through the darkness, taunted by the silence. Decepshun and he were going too fast for him to correctly see any VIDDscreens as they ran by them. They seemed a blur. Artha hoped they weren't too late, for finding the gear had taken longer than he had expected. Once again he tried Lance and Parm, but their wrist-comms were _still_ off.

"Why in the Magna Draconis would they turn their wrist-comms off?" Artha gritted his teeth angrily. Decepshun rolled her eyes and made various throaty growls and moans, trying to tell him a list of reasons. Artha didn't even bother pausing and thinking about it himself. "Ugh, I don't speak dragon!" She growled up at him. She was only trying to help.

Artha sighed and tried Moordryd's VIDDscreen again. After what seemed ages of the static green display, Parmon's face finally came onto the screen, flushed and worried.

"Artha!" He exclaimed before Artha opened his mouth. Artha grinned. Hope seemed to spring anew. "Artha," Parm repeatedly, his voice drastically lower, "where are you?"

"Coming. It took me pretty long to find the gear."

"You think?"

Artha stared back at Parm. "What? I did the best I could."

Parm sighed, and seemed to carry a heavy burden of apprehension on his shoulders that he could not shake. He offered Artha a sincere smile. "Sorry, it's just that…we were getting worried. You were taking so long."

"Well I'm coming now. Are you right outside the citadel? When Decepshun and I go in, then you can…"

"Artha, we won't need you to act as Moordryd to cover for us. We uh…" Parm hesitated, and appeared almost unsure of how to tell Artha. Artha didn't take this as a good sign. He raised Moordryd's eyebrow as a sign for Parm to continue. "…we're already in."

"You're what?" Artha yelled, doing a pretty good Moordryd impression.

Parm immediately shushed him, and glanced around fearfully. "Be quiet. We're in an air duct."

"You're what?" Artha repeated, quieter this time however, still enraged that his friends had gone into the dragon's den without him to protect them. "You were supposed to wait for me! How did you get in? What if you were caught?"

"Oh, please. I wouldn't get caught." Artha was sure Parm had flipped his other hand dismissively. But he couldn't tell, as Parm had his comm-link right in his face and Artha's view of anything else was quite limited at the moment. Parm and Lance must in a pretty small air duct.

"Lance. Is Lance there?"

Parm's hand moved as Lance pulled the screen towards himself, replacing Parm's face with his own. "I _told_ him to let me talk to you. Hi Artha! It was my plan that got us in. See, I distr…"

"Yes, yes. That's all very good, Lance, but," Parm held up a finger, or so Artha supposed, since he couldn't see, "we're in now. Artha, how far away are you? We should hurry."

"Uh." Artha spared a moment to look around at his current surroundings in Moordryd's purple hued visor. "I'm…going to be coming into Precinct soon."

"What? You're only that far?" Parm squeaked.

"Yes." Artha said, almost defensively. Decepshun and he were going as fast as they could. But maybe if he had Beau…

Decepshun seemed to read his thoughts and growled up at him. Artha ignored her. "Parm, is Word there?"

"No, he isn't. And I don't think he's around. He's put wraiths right around his computer. Completely guarded."

"Well uh…you guys stay put, and try to think of something to get the wraiths away. I'm coming. Don't do anything until I get there!"

"Right, right." Parm said.

Lance interjected impatiently. "But shouldn't we get the computer ready for Ar…"

"No, Lance. Don't do anything until I get there!" Artha demanded of them. Parm nodded, then terminated the connection.

Parm sighed, his sigh actually echoing slightly in the vent. He looked sideways at Lance, who merely rolled his eyes. "He looks like Moordryd…and now he's starting to act like him too."

----------

Beau gasped, then abruptly applied his brakes. Wyldfyr stopped beside him, and looked around himself as blankly as Beau. The two riders gasped in unison. Their lead was now nothing. "A dead end?" Moordryd yelled.

Kitt glanced around them. Technically, there were no walls surrounding them, but the drag way they were on ended, leaving nothing but empty air before them. The only way back was presently blocked by yours truly.

Deth stopped Syrrox and laughed at their predicament. Kitt hadn't expected him to laugh. Though it was done with malicious thinking, it seemed to…humanize him from the raging death trap he had been before. Human though he may be, his laugh sent shivers down her spine. It sounded so erratic and hysterical. But if she had thought his laugh was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck, the sudden silence was worse.

She could hear everything. Wyldfyr and Beau's heavy breathing. Their claws scratching against the street as they shifted slightly. Moordryd's panting as he tried to regulate his own breathing. Her own heart beat, so loud in her ears. She could even hear, or so she thought, the raspy breathing of Syrrox, and the clinking of Deth's armor as he stood.

He raised an arm. His right arm, Kitt noticed, almost uncomprehendingly. Was this it? After all their running, was it all over right here and now? She felt tired and beaten. Moordryd didn't know how to release the dragon, and could not jump over the edge and fly away with Beau. Besides, where would that leave her and Wyldfyr?

Kitt shook her head and gripped Wyldfyr's handles and glared at Deth with new resolve. If they were trapped, she wouldn't give up and let Deth kill Artha's body and the Dragon of Legend. And Moordryd, she added as an afterthought.

Kitt watched Deth as he held out his hand towards them. Was a sign or signal of some sort? His fingers were outstretched, in no way ready to unleash any attack. But then, as Deth looked at them and gazed right into her very being, Kitt was instantly frightened. He was an ancient warrior. Though outstretched fingers was no way to let loose any kind of mag attack, would that really matter to him? Perhaps all he needed to do was snap his fingers and they would all fall dead.

Suddenly, Deth flicked his fingers, immediately making the two humans and dragons standing before him flinch visibly, then sigh immensely when nothing happened. He laughed again, reveling in their fear and the power he held over them. He slowly turned his head towards Moordryd, and spoke. "Dragon Booster. I see you again. I see you weak and ready to fall."

His voice was as dead and emotionless as the harsh wind that sometimes blew its ill tidings into Dragon City. It blew now, and Kitt shivered.

Deth sat back down, the clank of his armor a death note in Kitt's ears. He sat there, as if waiting for something. Kitt wished he would do _something_. What was he waiting for? For them to make the first move? It seemed so. How kind of him.

"Moordryd," Kitt whispered harshly over, "we need a plan."

"What does he want from me?" Moordryd asked vacantly, not bothering to whisper as Kitt had done.

"Revenge you idiot. Now we need a plan to get out of this dead end."

"You mean fight him?" Moordryd turned to her, and Kitt saw not the heroic hero of the world, but an unsure imitation. She was sure his eyes were worried, but his black visor hid his face. His tongue wet his lips apprehensively. "Look Kitt, we can't fight him. You can't do any mag-moves, and he's…well, a warrior! From the past! He's…"

"So what if I can't do any mag-moves?" Kitt said heatedly and narrowed her eyes as the anger flooded through her. Just because she couldn't do fancy moves like Artha or Moordryd, didn't mean she couldn't fight.

"Please," Moordryd said hurtfully. "You can't do anything of value. He'll shoot you down so quick you won't have time to scream."

Kitt clenched her teeth. "No. I won't let him do that."

"You know you can't fight against him."

"You know," Kitt forced down her sudden feelings of helplessness. Was she really letting Moordryd get to her? "All this isn't really helping."

"Then think of something."

"I WAS!"

Moordryd recoiled ever so slightly, surprised at her outburst. A thin smile passed over his lips as he looked at her in what Kitt could only assume was superiority. Oh, if only she could get her hands around his neck…

Beau growled, pulling Moordryd and Kitt's attention away from each other to Deth. Syrrox had taken several steps in their direction, and Deth was apparently tired of the wait and their little banter. He stood again, this time poised and ready to leap. "Is this the new Dragon Booster?" Moordryd grimaced. "Is the next Dragon Booster so weak? So childlike? Even the original was not as juvenile as you."

"What do you want? Why take out your revenge on me?" Moordryd yelled at Deth. "I didn't do anything. The original idiot did!"

Deth's voice was contrasting compared to his earlier tone. Now it all but reeked of fury and untapped emotion. "The Dragon Booster will be punished for the crime he has committed! You are all the same!"

"But I didn't do anything!"

Deth glowered at him "You _are_ the Dragon Booster! He will pay. He MUST PAY!" As the last lingering note of his rage filled voice tainted the air with its presence, Deth moved extraordinarily quickly.

"Duck!"

Kitt launched herself at Moordryd as the mag-push left Deth's hand in a lightning fast movement. Moordryd was still seething and gaping at Deth as Kitt's body crashed with his, and knocked them both painfully to the ground. But what would Moordryd know? He was the one wearing the armor. Beau had to dash quickly in the opposite direction to avoid the blow.

Kitt climbed off Moordryd and, ignoring his complaints, stood ready for whatever would come next. She tried to ignore the throb of pain in her shoulder, which had come into contact with the armor first, and had been the first part of her body to hit the ground. Moordryd quickly stood beside her. Together they faced Deth, who laughed.

----------

It was Decepshun who saw the mag-push, and it was Decepshun who threw herself to the ground, lowering her head as low as she could. Bracing herself against the impact with the street, she glanced up to see if Moordryd's body was alright. The mag-push brushed his helmet, the blow wrenching Artha's head to the side violently. The mag-push thudded against a nearby building with alarming force, shaking the entire exterior.

"What the scales?" Artha yelled as Decepshun growled and rose from her crouched position, wincing slightly at the scrape on her front legs. Artha's hand flew up to the top of Moordryd's helmet. The top part was gone.

"What was that? Who did that? I don't have time for any distractions!" _Such as getting killed, _Artha thought angrily as he absentmindedly wondered how mad Moordryd would be when he saw his helmet. _But what would I care? It's Moordryd's fault all this happened in the first place!_

Decepshun growled, getting his attention. She thrust her head to their left, across a great expanse of nothingness, to the next nearest drag way, which was where the mag-push had come from. Artha didn't know what he was expecting. Some racers who had gotten out of hand, perhaps. But he hadn't expected…

"Beau?" Artha looked on worriedly, and helplessly. There was Kitt and Moordryd, and Beau and Wyldfyr off to the side.

"Is that…that Deth?" For a moment, Artha stared at the mag warrior, who moved with such confidence. Deth, the one out to kill him. And here he was aiming for an innocen…for a completely different person altogether. "We need to get over there now! They're trapped!"

Decepshun looked up at him as Artha bit his lower lip in apprehension. He couldn't stop to help, he had to go to the citadel to get switched, because… "Hey," Artha said suddenly. "I don't have to go all the way to the citadel. If Lance and Parm are in already, and Word's not there, they can activate the computer while I help Kitt and the 'Dragon Booster.'" Decepshun grinned up at him, giving him a sort of congratulations that he finally figured out the best plan.

Bringing up his VIDDscreen and telling Parm and Lance his new plan went smoothly. Lance was happy they'd be doing something and that he had been right, and Parm was excited too, in a scared-to-the-bone sort of way.

"But, but we don't have a way to distract the wraiths from around the computer! And I still have to figure out how to work it, and…"

Artha held up his hand, and Parm, noticing it, went silent. "Parm, you can do it. You're smart. Think of something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe there's something in the citadel you could use. Just be careful and contact me when you're about to do the switching process. I'll put on the gear then."

"Drac! Come on, Parm. We need a plan." Lance said eagerly to his older assistant.

"Oh dear," was the last thing Artha heard from Parm before he deactivated his VIDDscreen.

Artha reached into Moordryd's jacket and held up the mind switching device, then looked to where Deth and the others were. "I'm almost there, boy," Artha said to Beau, even though there was no possible way his dragon could have heard him.

Moordryd was back on Beau. That was good. And Kitt was back on Wyldfyr. They both were still between Deth and the drop-off. The street in front of them was scarred from recent, fierce mag attacks thrown by Deth while Artha had been talking to Lance and Parmon. Artha willed his friends to hold on a little longer.

----------

Connor felt like cursing. What was Drakkus doing, getting tangled up in this? What possible reason could he have for getting involved? The Dragon Booster's demise? Quite possibly.

Mortis sighed. He couldn't believe he was being forced to do this, being forced to ride Tyrannis through the streets of Dragon City. Through the streets! On an elite dragon! There were reasons why it was banned, but necessity and urgency urged him onward. No one would stop him anyway, he was a Dragon Priest. His only regret was that Deth had Moordryd and Kitt trapped before they could lead him into the less populous parts of the city.

Mortis grimaced angrily. Would he get there before Drakkus reached them and did who knew what? Moordryd and Kitt didn't stand a chance if they had to fight Deth, but with Drakkus zoning in on them as well, they were as good as gone in the blink of an eye. Tyrannis, feeling his rider's impatience, moved quicker through the streets. The beginning had been rough, trying to find the quickest way for Tyrannis Pax to fit through the streets without breaking anything. However, it had all gotten easier when they found Deth's trail and began to follow it.

People on the street, who were just beginning to emerge from their buildings, ran back in as another giant dragon raced on through. Mortis and Tyrannis wound their way through the city, following the winding path. Turning around a particular building, Mortis looked down and saw Captain Faier, talking to a group of people, his back to Mortis. The citizens he was talking to gradually fell silent and gaped at Tyrannis and the Dragon Priest atop him. Mortis saw one mouth his name, and at that silent indication of something going on behind his back, Faier turned.

He looked up, shocked. "What…is that Mortis?"

Mortis nodded his head, and never slowing Tyrannis' pace, soon left them behind, a silly grin on his face. So there were people who still remembered the elite racer, Mortis.

"Where are we going, Mortis?" A voice hissed from behind, a dark intent clear in the tone.

Mortis abruptly stopped Tyrannis, who growled in recognition. Without turning around, Mortis simply replied, "Drakkus."

Drakkus laughed. "How nice to see you again." The manner of his voice made it all too clear that it was most _unpleasant_ to meet him again. Mortis turned Tyrannis around to face him. This couldn't be happening. Though now he knew Drakkus was not going to bother Kitt and Moordryd, (he would make sure of that) he was now worried that they would not be able to escape from Deth without him to help them. What if they were fighting him right now?

"Drakkus, what is your business?"

"My business? What business of this is yours? Wait, you fear for the Dragon Booster's life. A justified fear. I do believe it will come to pass all too quickly. Deth is not to be taken lightly."

Mortis scowled at him. "Yes. But what concern of this is yours?"

"My concern is to see the Dragon Booster's fall. I cannot be sure Deth will finish the job. He has a reputation for…rash decisions." Drakkus spoke bluntly and slowly, which only heightened Mortis' already growing impatience.

"Then why aren't you with Deth now?" Mortis said very sharply.

"Because, old friend, I've sensed you coming." Drakkus motioned with his hand towards Mortis, "and I can't let you get in Deth's way."

Mortis clenched his fists. Now what would happen? Here he was, stuck with Drakkus, and it was highly unlikely that their fight would be over quickly. Moordryd and Kitt were in grave danger, and Mortis had no idea whether Parm, Lance and Artha were at Word's citadel, and how they actually might distract Word, figure out the workings of the computer and perform the switch. How long would all that take? And when they were switched and back into their own bodies, could Artha beat Deth?


	9. A Sinking Feeling

**A/N:** Hi. (glances around sheepishly) Long time no post?

Anyway, this next chapter was supposed to be longer, but I decided to post what I had now. The italics you'll see is about Deth's past, because he wasn't always this seemingly crazy madman in a mask. Originally, I had wanted Deth's flashback's to be in one chapter, but I'm putting the rest of his flashbacks in the next chapter, since this one is being split into two. So...enjoy, for those who still read this. :P

**Disclaimer:** I don't own DB.

* * *

_A Sinking Feeling_

Deth stood slowly from his confident seat on Syrrox. Syrrox noticed his rising and planted his feet firmly, realizing Deth meant to end it now. He was done playing with the hero.

As Syrrox prepared himself, Deth appraised his victims. He cocked his head to one side. "Is this all? Can all you do is dodge with help from…your friend?" He glanced toward Kitt, then laughed and tilted his head to the other side. Success was on his side, and, from what he had seen from these imbeciles from the future, surprise was as well. He had plenty of surprises.

"I can do more than dodge," Moordryd yelled back.

Deth raised both hands and created twin balls of energy that floated above them. "Then show me," he said in a raspy voice, filled with the hint of barely controlled rage.

Moordryd hesitated, then groped around for Artha's jakk-stick. Kitt growled and pulled on his arm. "What are you doing? We have to leave, now!"

Moordryd looked at her as if she were babbling nonsense. "Leave? I don't see a way. And besides, I _can_ do more than dodge!"

As Moordryd shrugged her off, Kitt grabbed his arm again. "No, you can't. I don't think little mag-pushes are going to drive him away, Moordryd. We have to…"

"Get off!" He grabbed her hand and yanked it away from his arm. He swung his newly found jakk-stick at her, grunting with the effort. Kitt barely had time to blink as his unexpected attack hit her in the stomach and knocked her from Wyldfyr's saddle. Beau growled up at him.

"Are you scale scrapped?" Kitt hissed through clenched teeth as she stood up from the ground, trying hard not to place a hand over her bruised middle. She swung an arm at Deth, who had combined his two mag balls into a larger on above his head. Apparently he wanted to finish them off in style. His masked face peered down at them, as if he didn't even need to look at what he was doing, as if it were all too easy for him. If what Connor had said was true, and that Deth had a personal revenge to extract on the Dragon Booster, then Kitt could only assume that he would finish them both off in a way that was worth waiting a millennia for.

His deadly sphere of energy seemed to stop growing when it was three times the size of his head. It then began to slowly change from a purple hue to white. Kitt found herself riveted by the feat, of how the white attacked the purple in such a passive way, and then seem to shine such a brilliant light that she had to finally look away, until the only place she could see without being blinded by the light was directly behind herself and out into the expanse of the drop that would send them to their doom if the attack Deth was preparing wouldn't kill them straightaway. Through it all, Deth watched them carefully, not intending them to leave his sight.

Moordryd and the dragons looked away too and turned around. Kitt squinted at Moordryd, glaring at him, blaming him for everything. "Okay Moordryd. Fight him. Do something now."

Moordryd, with what protection his black visor gave him, was able to look sideways at Kitt without shielding his eyes. He paused momentarily, and with the little resolve he had left after such a display of Deths power, power that was still growing, barked over at Kitt, "_You_ do something!"

Kitt felt like strangling him. "_You're_ the Dragon Booster!"

"I didn't want to be the Dragon Booster. Get me out of this! I was only supposed to do what my father told me, not get killed by something that's after you stable brats."

"Don't pretend that this is our fault, Paynn. It's your father who did all this and you who went along with it!" Kitt shouted as loud as she could at him, but she doubt he heard. She could barely hear herself.

A loud noise came from Deth's sphere of energy, drowning out the sound of everything else. It rose in volume and pitch, until it began to sound like a million tracking dragon flitting around her head, and eventually rising until it became a high shriek, like someone screaming their very soul out.

Kitt covered her ears with her hands and felt the enormity of the situation fall on her and constrict her. She had never felt so beaten, so helpless, and so doomed. She shut her eyes tight and dared to peek at Moordryd. She felt slightly relieved that Artha wasn't there, that the real Dragon Booster would live on. But would that matter? Without his suit, in an alien body and without the Dragon of Legend? A new warrior was released on the world, and Word had won, even though his plan had not succeeded, this was enough.

Briefly she took the time to wonder if Word would feel guilty for sending his son to his death when he found out, if he found out. Then the terrible noise and blinding light stopped all her thoughts until she thought of nothing else but what death must feel like.

--

_Willim Trajjik reached up and quietly pulled on his hood, pulling it further over his face so it was fully hidden. He crouched over the table he sat at and grasped his mug with both hands. He instantly felt the heat from the steaming liquid within, and was immediately grateful he had decided to come in the inn for a while, to warm himself up. He just hoped he wasn't jeopardizing anything just to receive a minute or so of warmth. He hunkered further over the table, and felt relieved that no one seemed to have recognized him yet._

_He licked his lips and cocked his head to one side as thought slow and deliberately. This was it. He smiled to himself. He was finally doing it._

_He stole a glance at the innkeeper, whom everyone called Crash, because he had once caused the largest crash in the reasonable sized town, right in the middle of the busiest intersections. Willim grinned at the years old memory, then let his smile disappear. Everything here was so familiar, in this aggravating, yet safe town he had grown up in. He was leaving it all behind. To do what? To do what he had always dreamed of, to fulfill his destiny._

_Crash - Willim still considered it to be a poor, unimaginative nickname - paid him no more attention than he did to the other patrons. For that Willim was thankful, but the other customers stole him glances of curiosity and suspicion at the hooded figure. _

_Willim didn't blame then. It was war, and anything, or anyone could come to the unlikeliest of towns and stir things up, cause a revolt or spy. They were fearful of spies, ever since the Dragon Flare Empire unleashed a number of well planned out attacks that could only be completed as a result of beforehand spying. Rivenstream, this was the town, was in a strategic location, and though its fealties were sworn to the Dragon Eye Empire, an empire which controlled the region, people feared what would come in the future if the war should continue, which it was likely to do. Nothing would stay safe forever, and the attacks by the Dragon Flare Empire had sent them nothing more than an omen of fear that it could and would happen in this town as well._

_So he ignored the glances. He would be gone soon anyway. Running away in the middle of the night - a rainy night, not one of Willim's better plans - and stopping at the local inn was almost sure to have him recognized by someone. Then his father would come and…Willim didn't want to think of the rest._

_Willim cast one last look around before downing his drink. He would leave soon. The heat was worth the risk. Willim had not come in just for the heat and warmth, but for the last taste of home and everything familiar before he set out, not knowing whether he would ever return. _

_As Willim paused to force on his hard gloves, Crash noticed his readiness to leave and came by the table. "Will you be paying now, or shall I put it on your tab?"_

"_No, I have some…," Willim began to say, but suddenly stopped and started at Crash's blatant observation. Willim glared daggers at the innkeeper. "How did you know it was me?"_

_Crash seemed taken aback by his serious tone, then chuckled. "Willim, I've known you since you've been born. How could I not recognize you, even under all that clothing? You wear that coat all the time, you know."_

_Willim bit his lip, and looked down to where he had undone his heavier jacket because of the warmth of the inn, clearly showing his lighter coat beneath._

"_Scales, Crash. Be quiet," he hissed as he quickly covered his coat._

"_Why? You're not supposed to be here? I though as much. Your father would have a fit if he knew you were here this late at night. I heard you two have a very busy day tomorrow, what with all the new…"_

"_Crash," Willim interrupted, letting some of his irritation at himself for his lapse of concealment drip into his voice, "I don't want my father to know I was here."_

_Crash winked at him. "When have I ever told him you've been here late at night? You're walking profit, Willim."_

"_I'm serious, Crash. I'm…I'm leaving."_

_Crash studied him, his smile faltering when he heard Willim's serious tone. "What do you mean, leaving?"  
_

"_Well, I'm going to join the army."_

_Crash straightened and looked back at the other guests, who immediately looked away. Sighing, he looked back at Willim. "The army? Why, Willim? Do you fancy an early death?" Crash put his hands on his hips after he wiped them on his pants. "I can see why you don't want your father to know where you are. He'll be worried. And you'll be in trouble."_

"_Chasel joined the army." Chasel was Willim's older brother; a foot taller than him, as thin as a stick and had the bravery of a mouse. He couldn't even work in his father's slaughter house like Willim did. It made him too queasy. Why his father sent him off to the army was still a mystery for Willim._

"_Doesn't mean you have to."_

_Willim sighed heavily and glared at him, in a foul mood. "I should've gone. Chasel faints after he gets a scratch. Gold draconium, it's a wonder he's alive."_

"_It is. But the army can change a man." _

_At this, Willim scoffed in disbelief. Crash picked up Willim's mug, but was loathe to leave. Though his inn was calling to him, and quite a few of his customers were getting pretty irritable at him, Crash couldn't leave Willim yet._

"_Go, Crash. I'm leaving now anyway." Willim drew his heavy coat shut, readjusted his hood and stood._

_Crash took him by the arm, forcing him to stay. "You'll get killed. The other empires are getting fiercer every day, those grey dragon are beginning to tear up the place, and the Dragon Eye Empire isn't the…well, they're strict and brutal."_

"_I know," Willim replied, staring into his eyes as he pulled his arm free. "That's why I like them. If you're saying I can't take it, you're wrong, and you know it." Which was true enough. Willim was stocky, strong and resolute. And one of the least squeamish men Crash had ever met._

"_It's not just that. There's this new…hero they're calling him. The Dragon Booster. He's allied with the Dragon Flare Empire, they've helped make his new armor. They say he and his dragon are unstoppable."_

"_I swear, Crash. You're such a newt."_

"_Does 'Dragon of Legend' mean nothing to you? Last golden dragon? You'll be killed. And your father needs you here."_

"_The chances that I'll actually face him on the battle field are next to zero. And if I do, I'll be trained."_

_Willim shoved his way past Crash and peered at the others beneath his hood. It seemed as though no one else had recognized him, and he was almost out. He would be gone soon. He would become a hero soon. A hero of the Dragon Eye Empire. Armeggeddon himself would hail to him._

_Crash placed the mug back onto the table with a thud, and hurried after Willim. Willim glanced behind himself as he pulled open the door handle. He hissed venomously back at his friend. "Crash, stop it!"_

"_Willim, you're making a huge mistake."_

"_Crash, you're my friend, not my fathe…"_

_As Willim opened the door, he came face to face with brown eyes, flecked here and there with red, as if to symbolize his trade. Suddenly, the cold, whipping wind and lashing rain had no effect on Willim as he stared astonished._

"_Father!" he said be fore he could stop himself._

_His father stared back at him. "Willim? Why on Draconis are you wearing all that? For dragon's sake, it's not that cold out. And get back to the house. I'll not have you sleeping in tomorrow."_

_Willim stared helplessly, and felt himself succumbing to his father's wishes. He almost hung his head in shame and mumbled "yes sir, right away." But he stopped himself. "No," he said instead._

_Crash hurried off, his leaving unnoticed by the two Trajjiks. "No?" his father echoed._

_Willim shook his head slowly, not for his father, but for himself. He was this far already. He was leaving. "Father…" Willim wondered why his argument didn't sound so convincing anymore._

"_Willim," his father growled, not one to be disobeyed, and pointed a finger at him, "Get back to the house. Now."_

_Willim shook his head again. "No. I'm going to join the army. Like Chasel."_

"_You fool. You'll be killed."_

"_I have a better chance than Chasel."_

"_Chasel's older. He knows what he's doing."_

"_Chasel couldn't even help in the slaughterhouse."_

"_You don't have a dragon."_

"_I'll get one."_

_As he stared at his father's bloodshot eyes, and as his father stared into the darkness beneath the hood, Willim finally elbowed past him and into the night._

_As he walked away, his boots already filling with water and his face venerable to the cold air, his father called out after him, "This war will make me father to one less son. You hear? You're making the biggest mistake of your life!"_

_Willim didn't look back until the entire town was out of sight, and the warmth of the lights faded into the night. He stared ahead, resolute. What did his father know? He had a destiny to fulfill._

_--_

Moordryd was sure Deth was ready to unleash his brutal power on them and kill them where they cowered in terror. The noise and bright light stopped all his movements, his thoughts and any instincts he might have that would have told him to get out of there. He was aware of nothing but himself. And then he was falling. A resounding crash, louder than thunder and brighter than lightning, ended the horrible noise and searing light.

Moordryd opened his eyes, expecting himself to be dead and thought he was. He was weightless, falling, and blind. Then, as his eyes readjusted to his surroundings, be began to make out lights in the distance. The further ones stayed still, while the closer lights flew upwards. Lights below himself sped towards him. He heard a roar and saw Beau. Beau shook his head and grinned up at him.

Then Moordryd realized. He was still alive, somehow. And he was _falling_. "Kitt! We're falling!"

"Thanks, Mr. Obvious," she snarled back, rubbing her head. "No thanks to you."

"What?" Moordryd looked behind himself, which was also up, and saw what remained of the track falling behind them. Huge chunks of draconiun street were hurtling down.

"We're lucky Beau and Wyldfyr jumped before that mag…push hit the street." Kitt bent down to rub Wyldfyr on the head. "Good job, boy."

"Yeah?" Moordryd asked, and cringed at the sight below. "Was that such a good idea?"

The street below rushed up to meet them in a most painful embrace. Moordryd clutched Beau's handles and pressed himself as close as he could to the saddle. He imagined himself hitting the street in a bloody splat, only to have the hunks of street above them to squish whatever was left of him to squish.

Kitt looked at him in worry. Or was it desperation? "Fly."

"Fly? Fly? You expect me to fly?"

"No, I expect Beau to fly. The Dragon Booster can do it. You have to do. Release the dragon, Moordryd."

Moordryd couldn't believe what he was hearing. Neither could Kitt. "You expect me to…"

"It's your only chance. Either that, or you die. We're running out of time."

Moordryd could see the truth of her words, but realized something else. "What about you and your dragon?"

Kitt bit her lower lip and stroked Wyldfyr's ear. Moordryd felt a pang of guilt. "I don't know how Beau could fly and carry Wyldfyr…"

Moordryd let her trail off sadly, then brushed off dust and pebbles that had fallen on his helmet. A good-sized chunk of street barely missed his head. Kitt squeezed her eyes, then looked at Beau, who looked back in genuine sadness. To Moordryd's eyes, Wyldfyr simply looked tired and ready for the inevitable.

"No, I can't leave Wyldfyr," Kitt said. "You don't know how much he means to me. How much we mean to each other."

Moordryd looked at her and understood how she felt. What if Decepshun were the one plummeting to her doom? Looking down, Moordryd saw that they had few precious seconds to spare.

Beau moaned to Kitt that he was sorry. He couldn't possibly fly to safety with another dragon. It was too much. Kitt rubbed a tear from the corner of her eye. "It's not your fault." She opened her mouth to say more, but closed it quickly, unable to.

"Well," Moordryd grunted, getting uncomfortable. "Get on."

"I can't leave him. I just can't let him die."

Kitt looked at him, and Moordryd expected her eyes to be full of pleading for some sort of salvation for Wyldfyr, but saw only defeat. The pain was too much for him. And he realized, that he truly must be as weak as his father always told him, if her pain was affecting him as well. If he had any kind of strength, he would do as she say, and fly away. But he couldn't. Moordryd cursed himself.

Suddenly, it was as if the Dragon Booster, Artha Penn, was right beside him, telling him "Beau chose you too. You can be a hero."

Scale him and his far fetched ideas.

He flung an arm around Kitt's waist, pulled her from her saddle, and threw her behind himself. Kitt sobbed into his back. "Beau," Moordryd instructed the dragon. "Grab his saddle in your mouth."

Kitt stared at the back of his helmet, nearly appalled. "But Beau can't possibly fly while hanging on to Wyldfyr. We'll all…fall."

"We don't need to fly, we just need to glide, to somehow get a softer landing than we otherwise would."

Looking ahead, he couldn't tell whether Kitt was looking at him as if his plan would never work, that the weight would be too much and they would fall, or if she believed in him, or in Beau, rather. He assumed he had her support as she gripped his waist with her arms. This was, after all, Wyldfyr's only hope. Providing Beau would actually fly.

"Release the dragon…" Moordryd started, uncertainly.

"You have to relax, to…to let the power flow through you."

Easy for her to say, she didn't have to do anything. Moordryd gripped the handles tighter, then relaxed his grip and relaxed his whole body. "Release the dragon…" Moordryd wondered what made Artha the Dragon Booster? His body? Or was it himself, and did his body have nothing to do with it? Or was it the suit? Either way, he wasn't sure he could do this.

Sensing his self-doubt, Kitt said, "You can do it. Let Beau and yourself become one….it's all in the suit." She added in as an afterthought, to give him some encouragement that he had help as well.

Moordryd sighed heavily, then tried again. Kitt clutched his armor. Moordryd could tell they didn't have long. He chanted the phrase over and over, forcing himself to relax, wondering whether it would work.

Though his eyes were closed, he could sense the golden glow beginning to surround Beau. And if Kitt's gasp of hope was no hint, he didn't know what was. He smiled and chanted out loud, with Kitt joining in as well.

"Release the dragon. Release the dragon."

He didn't know how to describe it. It was like part of him was flowing into Beau and part of Beau was flowing into him. If their lives hadn't rested on this feat, he might've been scared out of his wits.

"Release the dragon. Release the dragon."

Finally, it happened. Kitt laughed, Moordryd heard a strange sound of something unfurling, Beau grunted and strained with his neck muscles to lift his head which still clasped Wyldfyr's saddle tightly, and Moordryd felt their fall subside. They were gliding.

He opened his eyes. Well, they weren't actually gliding; it was more like a very slow fall on an angle, but it was a gliding motion.

"Yes!" Moordryd laughed and pumped his fist into the air, concentration no longer needed. "I did it!"

"I think Beau can do it!" Kitt exclaimed as she looked down at the approaching street that was suspended between two buildings. "Come on boy, you can do it!"

Moordryd looked down to Beau's face, where the strain was clearly evident. Wyldfyr was trying his best not to move while Beau tried his very best not to lose what little lift he had.

"Oh, yeah. Go, dragon, go," Moordryd added.

Kitt suddenly gasped and pushed Moordryd's head to the right, rather violently and completely unnecessary, he thought.

"Hey! Watch it, stable br - "

Moordryd stopped mid sentence as a block of what was once called a street thundered past his head, along with a few scraps of metal pipes. Beau stifled a pained whine as they glanced off his upper right shoulder.

"Oh, no." Moordryd heard Kitt say behind him. No longer angry at her for saving his precious head, he looked behind and saw the broad edge of a very large piece of track falling right above his head.

"Oh," was all he said to the track that seemed to hover right above him.

When he looked down again, and wished he hadn't, he saw the other street. Stationary, solid, full of people and dragons and promising a world of hurt. Great. They'd hit the street, and immediately after, the falling track above would squish them. But tough luck, because Moordryd Paynn was not ready to die just yet, and neither were any of the humans or dragons currently falling.

"Um, lean back!" Kitt said, hoping that their position on Beau would help him better if they weren't actually leaning forward.

Moordryd gripped the handles in both his hands, pulling back and throwing his body weight behind him. Beau struggled to maintain the correct angle for descending as the seconds slid by and the street below raced towards them, all while the plunging track above them fell with in torrent of wind accompanied by the sounds of metal and concrete striking each other. Moordryd felt the smaller pieces bounce of his helmet.

Wyldfyr held his tail between his legs and curled up into a ball as their time ran out. Beau growled and flung his head back, trying to lift Wyldfyr so he wouldn't hit the side of the street as they plummeted by it.

Kitt and Moordryd both screamed as both dragons hit the side of the street, taking out the guard rail as well. Beau bit down hard on Wyldfyr's saddle as Wyldfyr himself roared in pain. And just as quickly as they had made contact with their forbidden, suspended street, thankfully at enough of an angle so it wasn't quite a direct hit, they were falling again. They had merely hit the very edge of it.

Moordryd looked up. They had made it! The track that had fallen with them exploded onto the street that Moordryd had been sure would have been their final resting place. Crumpling under the force, the street broke, but Moordryd, at that point, didn't really care. They were past it!

"Look out!" Kitt exclaimed. Moordryd glanced forward and both screamed again as Beau careened into an alleyway, for a moment gliding over the ground, then crashing to the ground and finally stopping in a mound of garbage. Moordryd felt himself fly over the handles, and for a while, his world was spinning and every part of his body was being hit at the same time. Then it was immediately over with a jarring stop.

When his bearings decided to return to him, he groaned and realized he was nearly upside down in the garbage pile. He heard several boxes shift and fall over, the dragons moan, and Beau apparently breath a sigh of relief. He groaned to let the others know that the fall had hurt him as well. Even though he was wearing armor, it hurt like scales.

He lifted his head slowly, then jerked it up when a realization hit him. He couldn't hear Kitt. Only the dragons.

"Kitt?" he called as he attempted to straighten himself out. He managed to fall through a broken box, taking the entire pile of trash that was on top of him along for the ride. He groaned anew as he hit the cool pavement. He debated whether he should actually get up, or if he could rest for a while, at least until his whole body stopped hurting so much.

He heard the dragons stumble around as they got up, or whatever it was they were doing. Moordryd didn't much care what they did. He was alive, and for now, that was all that mattered. He took in a deep breath that smelled like rotting trash, dust and sweat. But he didn't care.

Beau, meanwhile, stood shakily up on his legs, and was quite a bit more worried for his companions their current Dragon Booster was. His shoulder was bleeding and countless areas of his body hurt, especially his strained legs and his hind feet, which had took the brunt of the collision with the street they had been trying to avoid. Not to mention the left side of his face had a deep scratch from where the guard rail had hit.

Beau closed his eyes and growled, knowing full well that things were going to get worse. They had not escaped Deth, just outran, or rather, outfell him for the moment. Beau attempted to take a few steps, but could do no more than one without collapsing. He looked around for Wyldfyr, and saw him lift his head painfully a little ways off. But where were the humans?

_Shut up, stupid dragon, _Moordryd thought begrudgingly. His head was hurting from Beau's continuing roars. Then Wyldfyr joined in as well. _Oh yeah, _Moordryd thought. _Wyldfyr. Kitt should thank me for…Kitt!_

Moordryd stood up, brushing aside and throwing boxes from him. He still hadn't heard Kitt. He looked at the two dragons and was shocked at their condition. Blood seeped from their once reflective scales, and Moodryd was beginning to feel guilty, that he had been the only one with armor to shield him from nearly everything and to protect him from impact. Even Kitt hadn't had…

Moordry gasped and glanced around quickly. Kitt had no armor. "Kitt!" he yelled and began to grasp boxes and junk and hurl them away, looking for his buried comrade. No wait, not comrade; just a stable brat.

"Kitt!" he called again, but was rewarded with no answer.


End file.
